


Love In Three Acts

by rustingroses



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-04
Updated: 2010-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9860174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustingroses/pseuds/rustingroses
Summary: Nyota tells a story about love and how it is many things- but expected and easy aren't two of them. Least of all when the two men she's in love with are Spock and Jim.





	1. Act I scene i

_Act I_

_The curtain rises._

_It's a beautiful room, obvious even from the dim light on stage. It's filled with the little things that make a home, such as a series of small jeweled figures in a glass case, shelves filled with books, a few pieces of furniture, a couple of paintings on the wall, a television carefully hidden behind wooden cabinets. It's all done in warm colors, surprisingly warm when one considers the main occupant of this room, though that can be explained- there is an obvious touch of something older and feminine that is never addressed hovering like a ghost through it all._

_There are some less usual things as well- a lyre that does not belong to any of Earth's many and diverse cultures is sitting out, wood gleaming with care and gentle attention. Something smoky and dark lingers in the corners of the room, curling through the air, a scent that is reminiscent of the desert after a rain. The room is scrupulously neat, too neat for anyone quite Human to bear, for all that it's warm and obviously lived in; there is a sense that this room is usually a solitary place._

_That doesn't matter, however, because today there is no sense that this is an empty or lonely room, as it is on most occasions._

_Today, there are two teacups on the table that sits in front of the couch and the chair, both more comfortable than the owner's taste might have indicated, and that older touch, that woman's touch rings through the air. The teacups are carefully seated on coasters so the heat and water don't damage the wood, the teapot itself out of sight in the kitchen._

_The two cups steam gently, fragrant scents curling in the air._

_Full lights come up on the stage, illuminating two figures._

_And so it begins_.

~*~

As she waited for Spock to speak, Nyota picked up the tea that he'd thoughtfully made for the pair of them, and inhaled slowly, breathing in the scents of oolong tea coupled with raspberries. At least, she was reasonably sure that it was raspberry. Possibly strawberries as well. She breathed in deeper, letting the tea suffuse her senses. She had only a dim grasp of tea- she knew the different types, from black to oolong to green to rooibos, but she would hardly claim to be an expert. Even taking that into consideration, she knew that the tea she held in her hands was special. She'd had it several times here, but each time she left, she found that the name eluded her, like it was a piece of knowledge she could only retain so long as she was in Spock's presence. Upon discovering she enjoyed it so much, he'd even gifted her with the leaves one year for her birthday, long before they had ever been more than tentative friends.

"Utopian Jewel," Spock supplied as she took a sip, answering the unasked question that hovered in the air.

Nyota smiled widely at him. "Thanks." Both knew that she wouldn't recall the name, didn't _want_ to recall it, but it was as much a ritual as anything else had been today: slipping off campus with Spock after a particularly trying day- though these days it was trying in a decidedly different fashion than before...before _everything-_ and heading to his apartment near the campus. They'd conversely quietly as he keyed in the code to the door and then entered. It seemed strange that everything was exactly as she'd last seen it, down to the small mark on the wood floor where she'd once caught the heel of her favorite pair of stilettos and would have fallen if Spock hadn't caught her. It felt like something tangible ought to have changed to reflect the turmoil in the outside world.

Instead, there was not even a cup out to indicate the someone still lived here.

Nyota sighed, but there was no point in asking about it. Dismissing her concern- Spock could not be forced into discussing something he didn't wish to discuss, he could only be coaxed and reasoned with- the next step was shoes and jacket off. Then her hair was tied up if it wasn't already in an effort to stave off the heat of the flat because she'd point-blank refused to allow him to lower it just for her, not when she knew it was the only place where he could be really and truly warm. Finally she followed Spock back into the kitchen, silent and in awe.

Spock prepared tea as though it were a sacred ritual, from the careful heating of water to the measurement of the tea. Every motion was precise, practiced, and all the more elegant _because_ the situation was so ordinary rather than despite it. There was something about the brisk movements that made Nyota feel like she was finally home.

He handed her the elegant teacup that she'd all but claimed as her own before leading her back to the main room. With its careful crafting and exquisite design, Nyota had no doubt that it was in fact, a teacup, and not a plain mug or a cup, or anything else so plebian- that she'd all but claimed as her own before leading her back into the main room. Nyota was at ease, finally, warmth bleeding through the delicate china and sinking into her skin. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where everything had slotted together like this, but it had seemed so gradual and natural that a part of her couldn't imagine how it had ever been otherwise.

Of course, she still had enough of a sense of humor to look back at the awkward, stilted conversations she'd attempted to make while Spock had made his way around his small kitchen the first time she'd come here in an effort to feel less out of place and obtrusive and laugh. That same laughter bubbled up when she thought of the heat she'd encountered when she'd first been in Spock's flat. It was a heat that she'd only been able to stand because of her childhood in the heart of the United Nations of Africa. The dry heat was reassuringly familiar, in fact, and reminded her of long summers catching bugs and snakes and frogs and terrorizing her elder sisters with them. Neither the awkward conversation or heat made her embarrassed now, though. Instead, she was able to laugh freely and without shame.

She stared into her tea, her breath creating small ripples across its surface. To Nyota, it wasn't just tea. It was a sensual ritual that was irrevocably intertwined with her memories of when Spock had first convinced her that despite the student-teacher boundaries, the possibility of what they could have was more than worth taking a risk for. He'd put all his talent for persuasion by logic into creating an argument to which she couldn't say no.

Once she'd actually stepped inside the apartment, however, past the line of no return, she'd started prattling on about everything and anything just to keep her thoughts and second-guessing at bay. Spock listened patiently until she'd exhausted her words and then put her at ease with a kiss that said, _No, I'm not regretting this_ and _Yes, we can make this work- I still want you_ , and maybe a little bit of, _You are so beautiful._ A part of her was surprised that something so simple as making tea had become so intrinsic to their relationship, something she did with Spock, with _only_ Spock, but mostly it seemed only natural to her, as though there was no other way it could be.

Now, however, was not the time to muse on all of that, on the way they were still adjusting, trying to fit hard edges against soft curves. Now was not the time to think of the way she'd divided their time into _before_ and _after_ , and the way that sometimes neither of them had words for what had happened even now, several months after the annihilation of Vulcan, a term that still didn't seem to be enough for everything those three words encompassed. She closed her eyes, though, staving of the memories and the ghostly nightmares that clung to her skin as much as anything else. It wouldn't do to get lost in her own mind on today of all days. Spock had asked her here today for a specific reason, had asked for her advice, and she could give him no less than her full attention.

Nyota directed said attention towards professor come colleague come friend come...whatever it was they were, these days, and sighed a little, eyes tracing his high cheekbones, the sharp curve of his ear, the way he seemed engrossed in his own cup of tea. He gazed at it like it contained the answers to all the grief he'd been plagued with, and her heart ached ferociously, the memory of a brilliant red planet vivid in her mind's eye. She knew it was hard, even now, harder than she could comprehend for him, and she wondered if she was doing the right thing, if she was really aiding him or just-

"Nyota?"

Nyota jerked away from her musings, tea sloshing dangerously before she managed to get it under control. She hissed, dropping her teacup when a few drops that were still too hot for comfort landed on her skin. With his usual grace and speed, Spock plucked it out of midair before it could go crashing against the floor, through not before it had poured most of its contents on the wood. Nyota froze for a second or two, but Spock didn't. Instead, after neatly catching the teacup and setting it on the table, he stood without a word and disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with a dishtowel in his hand.

When Spock went to wipe up her spill, Nyota rolled her eyes and neatly plucked the cloth from his hands, dropping gracefully to her knees and mopping up the tea, carefully working at the cracks where the floorboards met to keep the tea from warping or marking the wood. Sometimes, even now, Spock treated her like a guest for whom he was responsible instead of an equal and partner. When the floor was dry, Nyota ignored the subtle amusement in Spock's eyes and went to the small room that held his automatic washer and dryer. She rinsed the worst of the tea out in the small sink that sat about the machine before the color could set in, and put it in with the rest of Spock's dirty clothing.

The amusement stayed until she got back, the corners of his eyes creasing in a way that spoke volumes. Spock was also sitting a little less stiffly in the chair, spine no longer ramrod straight. Nyota raised an eyebrow in challenge; she got the feeling Spock knew exactly what she'd been trying to say, and the way even a few of his hard angles had relaxed was answer enough.

"I did not intend to startle you," Spock said quietly.

Nyota shook her head a little wryly. "I shouldn't have been quite so lost in my own thoughts," she countered. "Besides, you brought me here for a reason. I know you did, Spock." Though rules were a little lax now, especially since she was a member of the now-famous _Enterprise_ crew, it was still frowned upon for them to go off campus, since there was a high possibility they'd be sought out by news crews in an effort to force them into giving an interview.

As First Officer and a child of the now-gone Vulcan, Spock was perhaps the most sought out face, but Nyota had been on the bridge crew, which was almost as good to a reporter, since she'd been in the middle of the action. Once when she'd gone out to pick up some take out, unable to stand the Academy food any longer, they'd cornered her in an effort to get her to talk, going so far as backing her up against the wall. They're fired question after question at her, and it amused her, just a little, that more than half the questions they'd been asking had absolutely no basis in fact. She hadn't told them so, of course. Instead, she'd kept her poise and threatened them for harassment using her most eloquent language, flatly refusing to be even the least bit flustered, and when the other customers had started to mutter in a dark fashion, she'd been reluctantly granted leave lest their antics antagonize those sitting in the restaurant further.

She'd taken to protecting her anonymity as best she could whenever she was out these days, as had most of the others of her acquaintance. Some of the others weren't so lucky. Gaila had asked her just the other day in a mournful voice if she should try a spray skin to give her the appearance of a human, gazing at her green palms in consternation. When Nyota had asked why, Gaila had regaled her with a tale of a very indignant reporter who'd tried to pressure her into giving an interview. Nyota had laughed- it was hard not to, when Gaila had a way of making any and all stories hilarious- but had been a bit saddened by it too. Gaila wasn't exactly able to blend in as easily as some of the other crewmembers, considering she was only one of one hundred Orions that had made it far enough into Federation space to be granted refugee status, and thus an easy target. She wasn't the only one; there was a Devidal on the bridge too, and it was nearly impossible to disguise the fact that they had four eyes.

It almost made Nyota wish for the older days, when the worst fear she had whether or not someone would discover that the relationship between herself and Spock was in the not-quite-legal areas of Academy law. In those days, she'd skulked off campus occasionally to spent evening watching movies, or talking, or just enjoying Spock's company without the pressure to be absolutely careful in how they presented themselves to those around them. Of course, they'd never progressed beyond the simplest of touches and kissing in his apartment either; they'd been willing to wait for Nyota to graduate for a real relationship, because their work in Starfleet was too important to them to risk it on simple attraction, but they'd found themselves drawn together again, it had been harder and harder to maintain the strict student-teacher boundaries...

Nyota smiled just a little at the thought, but instead of mulling further over her memories- of which there were plenty- she brought her attention back to Spock, who finally seemed ready to speak, really speak, about the issue that had brought them there in the first place.

Nyota faced him, intent, ready to listen to all that Spock said, and more importantly, all that remained unsaid. With someone as carefully Vulcan as Spock, body language was equally important.

"I have been offered command of my own ship," Spock said contemplatively, quietly, the words carefully cleansed of all emotion before being freed from his mouth. Nyota didn't have time to do anything more than inhale sharply before Spock is continuing over her. "They were in the middle of refitting and partially redesigning the _Scire-_ " and what Spock doesn't say is that they were in the middle of this when Vulcan was _annihilated_ , turned into a micro black hole that has forever changed the Federation in ways that do not bear thinking about, "-and have almost completed the plans to make it one of the most comprehensive science vessels the Federation has ever seen. When it is completed in five months, they plan to rename it the _USS Eridani_."

Nyota knew language, knew it too well, she thought sometimes. She knew how to read all the little nuances and turn them into thoughts and ideas and emotions to be expressed as easily as breathing. It was her _job_ to do that.

She saw the loss, and the old, aching pain that had rested in Spock's chest for so long that he was starting to behave as though it had always been there and always would be. She saw the twist to Spock's mouth, a little bit of bitterness and a little bit of pride, and a little bit of something she wasn't sure how to quantify at the new name of the vessel- _Eridani_ , the name of the star system Vulcan had orbited since the planet had formed. There was a bit of joy lurking too, but it was cut by anger because though it was a reminder of what Vulcans held most dear, it was not a reminder of _everything_ that Vulcans held dear, and Nyota wasn't sure which was worse.

Nyota sensed that wasn't all, however; something in her simply _knew_ that Spock had something more to reveal, and that it was this part that would be the truly shocking news. Spock's eyes met hers, dark and intent as though he could transmit what he wanted to say directly into her brain. Which...he probably could, actually, using a meld, but that wasn't the point because he'd never do it just to exchange a piece of information unless there was no other choice. Spock was a private person, and so was Nyota, and as close as they were, the idea of being inside Spock like that still makes her hair stand on end, though her every nerve no longer clamored out a warning at the thought. There mere fact that he wanted so badly to tell her without actually having to tell her, however, made a thick curl of dread hang between them.

"I was also made another offer," Spock said slowly, carefully, an odd note in his voice. "James Kirk is being given the _Enterprise_. He has asked the Admiralty to allow me to stay on board as his First Officer."

Nyota's eyes widened in absolute shock. "What?" she breathed, unable to stop herself. Of all the things she'd been expecting, that wasn't even on the list.

Spock didn't comment on the fact that she'd surely heard him loud and clear, as he might have done another time, a subtle kind of teasing that Nyota had grown fond of. Instead, he nodded once, short and sharp, and said, "Yes. Captain Pike spoke to me yesterday and informed me that Kirk had been 'fighting tooth and nail' for my commission to be with the _Enterprise_." Nyota had never met anyone before who could put clear quotations around colloquial phrases, but Spock had the art down pat.

"Captain Pike had not desired for Kirk to catch me unawares before the Admiralty had the opportunity to formally approach me. Captain Pike also wished to give me a warning so I was not taken by surprise by them, either. The Admiralty is planning to discuss this matter with me tomorrow. Captain Pike says that it is, ultimately, my choice. He believes that they will not deny me whichever position I choose because I am one of the 'golden boys'." His mouth twitched, a touch of levity that almost makes Nyota laugh out loud at the sheer absurdity of it all.

It seemed that Spock had more to say, however, and he finished in a heavy tone, "Though I believe it should be an easy decision, I find that I am strangely reluctant to refuse Kirk's offer. Being captain of the _USS Eridani_ would allow me to do as I have always wished to do; explore this galaxy to its fullest extent, investigating all phenomenon that come across our path." His eyes, large and dark, were so earnest that Nyota was forced to catch her breath. "It is what I have been working towards my entire life, the opportunity to research why how this universe functions as it does in the hopes that what both myself and the others aboard my vessel discover might aid those who need it." Spock's voice was not strident or loud or sharp, but it was passionate nonetheless, and Nyota found herself entranced by the picture that Spock presented for her.

"And yet..." there was a purposeful pause at the end of the sentence, expertly shattering the image Spock had painted so exquisitely. "I find myself intrigued by Kirk's desire to have me on board as his First Officer. The ingenuity and acute intelligence that he displayed was something I knew that he possessed- one does not casually hack into the Kobayashi Maru- but it was the first time I'd seen it put to truly good use. His behavior was very much at odds with his manner during his time at the Academy. He was less..." Spock tilted his head.

"Self-absorbed?" Nyota suggested dryly, and a suggestion of a smile hovered around Spock's lips, though he didn't otherwise agree with her.

"Though I do not respect all of his decisions, or the fashion in which he implemented them-" and here Spock's broken control hovered over them, palpable and dark and shameful, "I have nevertheless found that I..." his voice faltered, not appreciably, but Nyota had felt like she'd spent a lifetime learning the man across from her, and even the briefest break spoke to her. "I am perplexed as to why he so greatly desires that I remain with the _Enterprise_." Nyota was sure that wasn't what he'd been planning on saying, but no amount of force could pull the words out if Spock did not part with them voluntarily.

"So what you're saying," Nyota said slowly, "Is that ultimately, Kirk poses a fascinating puzzle that you wish to explore, while also nurturing his potential as Captain as he still has a while before he is competent in anything more than the most dire of circumstances, and though the lure of having your own ship should be enough to offset that fascination, you instead find yourself equally drawn to both prospects."

"As usual, Nyota, you have concisely explained the situation."

Nyota hedged for a moment. "And...what? You want me to help you decide?" That didn't sound like Spock- he'd always been the type to meditate on a problem on his own, to turn over every issue until he'd examined it thoroughly and only then make a fully informed decision. Nyota was flattered, really, but also a little bit confused.

Spock shook his head, however, and Nyota's confusion only grew. "I only became directly acquainted with him as a result of his undermining of the Kobayashi Maru. I wish to form a more complete picture of Kirk's personality; I know, of course, what I gleamed from his student records and history before accusing him of cheating, but I found it to be lacking, somehow, in its details. Kirk as he behaved for the most part on the _Enterprise_ was not the individual that I believed needed to be called to order for deliberately sabotaging the intended lesson that was to be gained from the test. Thus, I was hoping that you might be able to give a more detailed account of your acquaintance; after all, he managed to convince you to act as a part of his bridge crew during the Kobayashi Maru all three times despite the fact that you clearly were not friends."

"Yes, well," Nyota said a little shortly. "I might not be the best person to tell you my impressions. I'm a little biased." She was self-aware enough that she could admit that, at least.

"I am discovering that most people are," Spock assured her dryly. "Kirk is not one to evoke disinterest, or apathy. I found that when most of my colleagues speak of him, it is with passion of one sort or another."

"Wait, colleagues?"

"Yes," Spock agreed. "I have thus far asked Captain Pike, Admiral Archer and Captain Number One in particular to describe their opinions of Kirk, as they all taught Kirk in at least some capacity, and they are people whose ability to give a relatively impartial judgment I trust. Though normally they are all clear-headed, well spoken individuals, I find that mention of Kirk-"

"-makes people irrational?" Nyota finished for him, wry smile growing on her face. "Yes, my mother often described people like him as someone you either love or hate- often in the same moment."

"So I discovered." Spock looked at Nyota then, silently prompting her to get on with her summation of all the experiences she'd had with Kirk.

It was an impossible question, Nyota realized, beginning to feel unfairly put on the spot. She'd had no time to prepare herself, no warning that this would be coming, and she found that she wasn't sure what Spock was looking to hear beyond what information Pike, Archer and Number One had provided. "What do you want to know?" she asked, hoping that would narrow down what she should say.

Spock's brow creased. "Everything you are comfortable with telling me, I wish to know," he informed her simply. "That is the only way to form the most complete picture possible of Kirk; I must gather the observations of others and match them with my personal experiences in the hope that I will be able to gain an understanding as to what influences him."

Nyota pursed her mouth a little in thought, tamping down the urge to rub her temples. Trust Spock to turn this into a mental exercise instead of an emotional one. "Give me a moment. I've known Kirk for almost three years, now, and he isn't the sort of person that can be described in a couple of words."

Spock inclined his head graciously. "Take whatever time you need. I appreciate that you are willing to do this," he added almost as an afterthought, not because he wasn't grateful, but because it was a very human thing to do, to give thanks- it wasn't his instinct to directly mention that he was grateful for her assistance. Nyota felt a little thrill go through her, glad that he was making the effort, giving a little, showing that he understood that he was putting her in a situation with which she was not completely comfortable. Nyota knew that if she stated that she wasn't willing to do this, Spock would be completely understanding- it was one thing to complain about a person in a moment of ire and frustration, but this was an awful lot like passing judgment.

Stones and glass houses, of course; she was, after all, in no position to be throwing out insults and acting as judge and jury, not when she was being asked to give a fair description of the man who had worked so hard to save Earth- but to be more to the point, had worked so hard to save Vulcan.

In that spirit, she vowed to be as fair as she could manage.

"The first time I met James Kirk was in a bar in Riverside, Iowa. It was the last layover I had between Nairobi and San Francisco on the Starfleet shuttle system. I was coming back for my third year, then, and Gaila wanted me to go to the local bar with her. We were all there, actually; pretty much all the Starfleet cadets that were waiting for the last flight out were at the bar, since everyone wanted to have one last night of real partying before the semester started. Gaila and Nicole sent me off for drinks." Nyota caught herself smiling at the memory though a pang of loss cut her heart. Nicole had been on the Antares. "Gaila was playing wingman for Nicole- usually I did it, because unless she has to, Gaila hates the pheromone suppressors and won't take them unless she's on campus and is mandated to- but Gaila wanted to learn more about Earth culture." She cleared her throat, eyes stinging. God, it had happened three years ago and it was still like a fresh wound laced with salt simply because of who was there.

"So anyways, while I was at the bar, one of the local guys started to flirt with me; I knew he couldn't be another cadet, because he wasn't in his reds like the rest of us, so I just blew him off. I told him I my focus was xeno-linguistics, and assumed he had no idea what it was in the next breath." A laugh then, a touch self-depreciating. "He gave me a textbook definition, then told me, straight-faced, that I had must have a talented tongue." The memory rose, clearer than ever, rising about her until she could smell the alcohol and the leather from Kirk's jacket, could hear the pounding beat in her bones.

The words rose to her lips without her having to consciously recall them; such was her talent, to remember, truly remember what was said to whom and when, and to be able to repeat it back flawlessly. "Then Greg Samuels came over- you know him?" Nyota waited for the nod. "Well, he's always been a chivalrous guy, though not exactly kind. He asked me if Kirk was bothering me. I told him he was, but that it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Next thing I knew, the two of them were hurling insults at one another, spoiling for a fight like a pair of Bighorn sheep trying to claim a _mate_ -" the word was spit out, bitter, but Spock didn't asked for the memories there, just let the words continue to flow out of Nyota until she was empty. "Kirk took on all four of them, managed to grope me in the process, and I couldn't stop it, even when it was clear that he couldn't stand, let alone do anything more." She smoothed a sweaty hand against her leg. "If Captain Pike hadn't come along and broken it up, I'm not sure what would have happened."

All the worst of Kirk, his callous disregard for those he was trying to sleep with, his self-centeredness, his arrogance and ignorance, his temper and inability to see reason all settled over her like a cloak. Oh, she was hardly blameless, to be fair; she didn't normally accuse people of being, "dumb hicks who only slept with farm animals," a stab of cruelty and rudeness that she had known even then was beneath her and had used anyways in the interest of driving him off as quickly as possible. He'd been a pitiable creature, then, even more so when his face was bloody and bruised. Nyota was smart enough to put the pieces together after the fact and knew that there were probably stories, so many stories, but she didn't have the right to ask, didn't have the interest to ask, not when Kirk's first impression had left her with a bitterness coating her tongue that she'd been unable to get off for days.

Nyota paused then, taking the time to carefully organize her thoughts so that her disdain would not leak into what she had to say next, because it was absolutely vital that she not allow the two pieces of information to blur; they must remain as separate for Spock as they were for her, as though these were two memories about completely different people. It certainly felt that way, sometimes, because it Nyota often felt she had no means with which to reconcile them.

"I've been a part of the xeno-linguistics club since my first year," Nyota began slowly, and then continued more warmly, unable to keep the smile from her face, "It was a perfect way to practice languages; we even had a game where we would have entire conversations in which each time a person talked, it had to be in a different language than all others previously spoken. If you repeated a language, or ran out of ones that you knew, or mis-conjugated or forgot a word, you lost. Since we were the beings most interested in language, we were usually the ones that the language departments used as tutors." Spock knew this, of course; her skill in Vulcan and Romulan and her position as Treasurer of the club at the time was part of the reason Spock had asked her to be a teaching aide in the Vulcan language department her last three years at the Academy. Even so, she couldn't help but remind him of those early days, when they were just fumbling their way into friendship.

"Of course, to graduate from the Academy, you've got to be at least comprehensible in one language beyond either Standard or your native tongue, so tutors are in constant demand for the beginning level classes in particular, since there are so many students at the Academy. Though it's a requirement, however, that doesn't make everyone instantly able to speak another language." She was one of the lucky ones, of course, with an innate grasp of how a language's grammar structure worked, and why certain conjugations are used at certain times, and why agreement was necessary in one phrase and not another. She had a mind for words too, able to remember what was said and mimic it back near perfectly. She was a rarity. Most people fumbled their way through foreign languages, struggling to make their tongue fit around the strange words as though they were rocks.

"Some people just aren't built that way, mentally. And though we as tutors _know_ that it's more frustrating for a student struggling to learn how to speak in another tongue than it is for use to teach it, we can't help but want to avoid them, because spending three hours fighting through a phrase with them is like rubbing a cheese grater against your forehead while attempting to keep smiling. As a result, we'd often parcel out the worst students to the most experienced tutors so no one was stuck with all of the students who didn't understand. The one exception was Kirk. Though he was as proficient as any last year communications student in Deltan, Andorian, Klingon, and Nox, none of us quite trusted that him to behave as a tutor for the more difficult cases." It was said with no small level of shame, but it was said nonetheless.

"During my fourth year, there was a series of exceptionally difficult cases that we all spent hours slaving over, trying to figure out how to make everything sink in and mostly failing. I know I was at the end of my patience, and so was everyone else. We just didn't know what else to do. We'd explained it every way we knew how, tried every analogy and simile and metaphor we were capable of, and we might as well have been shouting at brick walls for all the effect they had. And then, one day, it was like a universal understanding dawned. Nicole and I couldn't get over it. It was almost as if overnight everything we'd been struggling to make them understand finally clicked. We were thrilled, so proud of our students...and of ourselves."

A light dawned in Spock's eyes, and Nyota's mouth twisted wryly. "Yes, you see it, of course, but we didn't, not then. We were flushed with success and didn't question further. In fact, I wouldn't have figured it out at all, if it weren't for the fact that almost at the end of the semester, Dev'shal, one of the students that I was teaching Andorian to, was speaking to Kirk in the hallway. He was thanking Kirk in flawless Andorian for all of his additional help during the semester, and asking if Kirk would be around the following year if he decided to continue taking classes as part of his elective. Kirk saw me, of course, and knew he couldn't keep it a secret any longer, so when Dev'shal said his goodbyes, he revealed the entire plot.

"He'd been meeting with the worst students in the Deltan and Andorian departments twice a week to give them help- but not like I was. He'd told the students who didn't see the point of learning a foreign language to watch their favorite movies dubbed in Andorian, for example, and tell him about them. There was a medical student in the Deltan group- Kirk taught him the most useful phrases for a doctor to know and talked him into learning enough to take a study abroad course on Delta, saying it would be useful. There was one girl being taught by Nicole who loved clubbing; Kirk taught her how to say every drink he knew in Andorian and went from there.

"He'd taken the time out of his schedule beyond his requirements as a tutor- far beyond those requirements, in fact. Three of them switched their major to communications, one of whom focused in xeno-linguistics. Of the remaining eleven, seven chose to continue with their language of choice. Six of them went from failing the class to a B average. All passed their classes with a minimum C+ average, and for most of them, their grade was only so low due to the fact that they'd struggled so much in the beginning of the semester. In total, Kirk successfully managed to teach the fourteen students combined more of the Andorian and Deltan languages than any of us could one on one."

She ran her fingers through her ponytail, absently untangling the knots that always seemed to creep in despite her best efforts. "I know I'm still a good tutor. I know I still understand languages. What he did was not an effort to undermine my work. I can't help but be a little jealous, however," and here, her mouth curled a little sadly, "that I don't have his intuition, his sheer bloody-mindedness, his desire to make people shine simply because he can and it's the right thing to do. He genuinely _liked_ what he was doing- he was practically glowing, he was so happy for what his students managed to accomplish, and in the end, I couldn't do anything but tell him he did well. He has this unique ability to just make everything click and is willing to go any distance to do what he thinks is right, even if it means going behind someone's back to do it. I can't decide if he's a menace or the sort of intuitive mad genius that can't help but be legendary."

Nyota waited for Spock to say something, anything, to pass judgment on _her_ judgment, waiting for her memories to be weighed against the feather on the scale and found wanting.

However, Spock simply murmured, in a quiet, pensive voice, "Thank you," and spoke about it no more for the rest of the evening.


	2. Act I scene ii

There was only one building on campus that housed any sort of real musical instruments, so when Spock went to hear his choices officially from the Admiralty, Nyota went to pass her time elsewhere, somewhere where she couldn't worry and fret and wonder what was going to happen next, especially in light of the message she'd received early that morning; she was officially posted to the _Enterprise_ as the bridge's Communications Officer under the command of one James T. Kirk.

She hadn't dared share the news with Spock, unwilling to influence his decision, and yet she couldn't keep something this big from him, not when the _Enterprise_ would be headed back out after the repairs finished in four weeks, coinciding with the start of the new school year at the Academy. Nyota wasn't entirely sure that Kirk hadn't requested her in hopes that Spock would follow. It made her furious, the very thought, but then it was equally fair to acknowledge the fact that she was at the top of the graduating class of Communications Officers; she was the best to have come out of the Academy in a decade, at least, and it wasn't ego if it was true.

She needed to burn off some energy, needed to think things through before she said or did something rash that she'd later regret. Though her role on the _Enterprise_ during Nero's attack on Vulcan had probably given her enough leeway that if she pressed her case, she could be reassigned to the soon-to-be _USS Eridani_ if Spock decided to take command of the vessel, she knew Kirk wouldn't give in without a fight, and it was unlikely that her desires would outweigh those of Kirk's. Though he'd made a point of telling anyone who'd listen that it was a group effort, that he hadn't done it alone, it was considered to be an act of modesty and had only made him shine brighter. It was Kirk and Spock that were the truly recognized heroes, the ones who'd saved their mentor and Earth, who'd destroyed Nero and the Narada while everyone else had run around like chickens with their heads cut off, giving out contradicting orders.

It was enough that Nyota let her head fall, let it come crashing down on the baby grand she was sitting at, letting out a discordant grumble that vibrated in the room even after she'd lifted her head off the keys. It summed up her feelings pretty well.

"I didn't know you could play," a wickedly teasing voice said from the doorway. Nyota jumped, startled, nearly falling off the bench as she turned to look at Kirk in the doorway. He was smiling rakishly, brown-blond hair standing on end and brilliant blue eyes glittering in the light streaming in from the window. "Funny running into you here."

Nyota raised an eyebrow at that. "Firstly, I can't play, not really. I know enough to pick out chords, to play a melody line, but I can barely play Chopsticks, let alone Chopin. Secondly, don't even attempt to make it look like you ran into me by accident, Kirk. The only time I've ever seen you here is when you want something from me. At least do me the honor of recognizing the fact that we both know this is staged, so I can shoot down whatever request your about to make and we can get on with our lives."

"Now, Uhura, that's not a very nice thing to say," Kirk said as he sinuously moved across the room, leaning against the piano as if he had every right to be there. "Especially not to your new Captain."

Nyota's dead silence spoke volumes about exactly what she thought of that particular sentence. "Don't make me bring you up on harassment charges. Captain," she added a long beat later, the words slow and mocking. Her attention was riveted on Kirk, however, and she carefully closed the lid to the keyboard of the piano, put her elbows on top and let her face rest in her hands. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Tell me what you want, or get out. Actually, if you want to just get out, I'd be perfectly fine with that too."

"I'm hurt!" True to form, Kirk's hand flew to his heart, as though Nyota's words had impaled him using words alone. _If only,_ Nyota thought rather viciously, at her wits end over his obsessive desire to have Spock onboard as First Officer.

She inhaled and then exhaled long and slow, drawing on the meditative techniques Spock had told her for dealing with her anger. If she ended up staying with the _Enterprise_ , she might as well practice while she could, or risk jettisoning Kirk out an airlock, which was a bad idea if she planned on staying in Starfleet.

"Kirk," Nyota ground out through gritted teeth, impatient for him to get to the point.

He could tell her patience, already short with him, was growing even shorter, and hastened to get to the point. "I was hoping that you'd be able to do me a favor," he said, dropping all pretense of joviality. His face was serious, and he met her eyes guilelessly.

"Yes?" Nyota asked, wary of promising to do something before she knew what it was Kirk was requesting.

"I want you to convince Spock he should be my First Officer," Kirk informed her bluntly.

Nyota laughed.

She couldn't help it- it was so absurd on so many different levels that she wasn't even sure where to begin. Perhaps with the fact that there were very few people who could change Spock's mind after he made what he believed to be the most moral and intelligent course, and she wasn't entirely sure if she was one of them. Or maybe with the sheer weirdness of Kirk assuming that Nyota would be willing to argue Kirk's side of the case. Or maybe it was even the audacity of Kirk doing this behind Spock's back, unwilling to approach the half-Vulcan directly to convince him on his own merits.

"I'm serious!" Kirk interjected into her laughter, and Nyota just barely managed to pull herself together in order to gasp out, "I know, I know!"

Kirk's brows snapped together as he realized that Nyota was still laughing despite the professed seriousness of the situation. "I don't understand why it's so funny," he declared, eyebrows meeting.

Nyota finally settled, but couldn't help the occasional chuckle from bubbling up. It had been long, far too long since she'd really laughed, and though what Kirk had said hadn't been particularly funny, she couldn't manage to stop her giggles, needing the support of the piano to keep herself upright. When she was composed enough to speak again, she gestured for Kirk to grab a seat.

Kirk's frown deepened, but he grabbed the folding chair set against one wall, opened it, and turned it around so he was sitting on it backwards, arms propped up against the back of the chair. He leaned his cheek on his palm, irritation softening into something closer to curiosity. "Why was that so funny?" he asked with a surprisingly little amount of rancor.

Nyota brushed her hair out of her face, and she realized that it probably needed a trim. The ends were a little rough. "If you really want to work with Spock, if you really want him as your First Officer, there's something you've got to understand. Spock respects logic, he does, and he even has a certain respect for emotion and recognizes that it has its place, even if he doesn't believe that he has any particular need for it-" and here, Nyota found herself sharing a little wry smile with Kirk, and entirely unvoiced conversation passed between them, which made Nyota marvel at the ways they'd both changed since their meeting almost four years ago now, "- but once Spock has made his decision, he all but requires physical proof that he is in the wrong. He will freely admit it, when it comes to that point, but getting to that point in the first place is not an easy task. And believe me, if I argue your case for you, that's not a good start."

Kirk nodded once, eyes wide and expression genuinely interested. "So what you're saying is that unless I go to him myself and can offer proof that he will be able to accomplish his goals with me, he won't consider my offer?" His generous mouth pursed in thought, and Nyota could admit, if only to himself, that Kirk was a handsome man indeed. If he hadn't been such a colossal arse the first night that they'd met, she might have even taken him up on that offer of a drink with the proper persuasion. "Do you mind if I ask for some advice then?"

Nyota thought for a moment, then shrugged cautiously. "What do you want to know?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. She of all people knew that she couldn't just give Kirk a carte blanche, because where given an inch, he'd take a mile, and then some.

"How did you convince Spock to go out with you?" he asked bluntly.

For the second time that day, Nyota burst out laughing. Perhaps it was her residual humor from earlier rising to the surface once more, perhaps it was because even Kirk, as clever as he was, had made the same assumption that everyone else of her acquaintance had made.

"Hate to break it to you," she said without sounding anything but gleeful, "but it was the other way around."

Kirk's eyes widened, and his elbow slipped off the edge of the chair, and he just barely caught his head before his chin hit the metal. "No fucking way!" he exclaimed, and broke out in a wide smile, joining her in laughter. "You're kidding. I seriously had no idea!" He gazed at her, admiring and stunned. "I can't believe it! No fucking way!" he said again, sounding no less shocked. He shook his head. "Somehow I just assumed that you'd been the one to convince him. Then again, of course Spock came after you- there's no way even a Vulcan could give someone like you up."

Nyota shook her head, grateful for her dark cheeks, which meant only a trace of her embarrassment actually could be seen. She was flattered- it was the first compliment that she'd received from him that had seemed unstudied and genuine. His usual compliments were flowery, ridiculous things, or pick up lines that a thirteen year old girl could see through. Though they'd dropped off sharply after the Enterprise's return, and these days he said them more out of habit than anything else, it was still rather nice to hear actual joy and admiration in his tone, instead of that sultry sexiness that, while enjoyable to hear, was still somewhat distant and rote. "And we were having such a nice conversation too," she said dryly, but her smile let him know she was just teasing.

Kirk leaned forward in the chair. "You've got to tell me _everything_ ," he stressed seriously, but those blue eyes were glittering with humor and fascination. "No, seriously, I've got to hear what arguments he used."

Nyota hesitated. Gaila knew, of course, as did her family, but she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about telling the story to a relative stranger. "Cross my heart, I won't tell a soul," Kirk coaxed, smiling winningly at her. "Besides, it's not like it can hurt you- the Admiralty has to know by now, and if they haven't done anything now, they're probably not going to do anything, so there's no risk in telling me."

Nyota had to admit that Kirk was right, and she settled herself a little more, unconsciously adopting the pose her mother took whenever she was telling a story to her children: back straight, hands ready to move and gesture as the story required, legs curled up under her. She turned on the piano bench so her back was against the piano and she was completely facing Kirk. He, in turn, straightened as well, adopting a pose of concentration.

"We met my first year, of course, and I took several courses with him, but it wasn't until my third year at the Academy that I really started to get to know him. He asked me to be a tutor and teaching aide in the Vulcan Language department, actually. That's when we first started to become friends- we spent so many late nights together grading papers, reporting to him how the students I was tutoring were progressing, giving him a hand with little stuff that he wouldn't notice, since he always took on so much." She looked down at her palms a little shyly. "I think he knew what I was doing, and let me do it anyways."

She glanced up through her lashes. Kirk was staring at her, rapt and curious. It gave her the courage to continue. "To make a long story short, by the middle of my fourth year, he was one of my best friends." It seemed like a paltry way to sum up the conversations about books, the long hours spent with her singing along to his Vulcan lyre, the way he'd opened up, even a little, about why he'd come to Starfleet in the first place. Spock's face the first time he'd softened enough to give her an almost smile was practically etched into her skin.

Kirk made an encouraging noise.

"I always knew that I liked him a little more than was appropriate," Nyota admitted haltingly, but she saw no judgment on Kirk's face; rather, she saw a rare softness and something that would have looked like jealousy if it were anyone but Kirk. After all, Kirk prided himself on never getting attached enough to be jealous in the first place. "But I always told myself that I would never do anything about it, because my career in Starfleet was more important. I wasn't going to risk it for anything that was, in all likelihood, going to be a fleeting romance." She played it down, because not even Gaila knew how torn she'd been by her choices, and her how final decision had been nothing like easy. She'd go to bed resolved that it would go no further, that she'd find a way to draw back from Spock, to sever the connection before it grew too deep.

As if it wasn't deep enough already.

Then, despite her best intentions, she'd awaken flushed and aroused and come to thoughts of him, his strong arms, his intelligence, his kindness, the soft curve of his ear, the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe.

The way he made her feel that she _mattered_ to him.

She had always reminded herself afterwards that it wasn't like that with Spock, that he didn't feel the same way for her, because that was her only defense against the onslaught. Even so, after those nights she couldn't help avoid him and wonder if he could sense the desire curling in her chest and thrumming in her veins. It mortified her, that she could be half in love with someone who was her professor- and during those times, she couldn't help but think of him as a professor instead of a friend, despite the fact that they were unlikely to ever have a formal teacher-student relationship for the rest of her time at the Academy- but it was there all the same.

"By that point, however, we were eating dinner together at least three or four times a week just because we could, beyond our practice sessions for music or in my capacity as a teaching aide and tutor. We were always very careful, of course, to meet in a public location, usually on campus where people could see us. Of course, the rumors started anyways, and I knew that they would because people are people, but at the same time, I'd hoped to be able to avoid that." She tried to sound relatively light-hearted, but failed. She could see it in his eyes, the dim memory of the occurrence. He'd probably ignored or dismissed the rumors as absolutely impossible because anyone who knew her knew that she'd earned her grades because of her own merit and intelligence, not from sucking some teacher's cock. It made her strangely grateful, that he'd found the rumors to be patently ridiculous, that he'd never even considered that they rumors might have a drop of truth to them.

The rumors had hurt though, and made her absolutely _furious_ because she knew that saying nothing would be viewed as a confirmation, and denying it would have made things even worse. She was most sickened by the insinuations that she'd somehow tricked Spock into it, that somehow the blame had been placed solely on her shoulders because she was the Human woman who should have known better. She refused to be the Whore of Babylon, however, refused to be the one that they could stone to death for imagined sins. She waited for the rumors to pass with her head held high, conducting her business as usual, trying to tell herself that she was above it. Her friends supported her, of course, and Gaila had metaphorically torn more than one person to shreds, and the rumors hadn't lasted more than a couple of weeks, true. And if that weren't enough, even the administration had dismissed the rumors with no more than a cursory investigation because they couldn't imagine two people less likely to break the fraternization rules.

It hadn't really made things all that easier, because the whispers got under the skin and burrowed deep.

"I...drew away, from Spock," Nyota continued, and she very carefully did not watch Kirk's face while she did it. She stared out the window instead. It was a beautiful day. "I just couldn't-"

"You don't have to explain your reasoning to me," he said gently, and though he had crooked smile on his face, underneath the façade his face was bleak. He understood. Nyota hastily thought back to all the rumors there'd been about at Kirk at one point or another, ranging from what even she knew was ridiculous to ones that she'd been more than willing to believe, and swallowed.

"Yes. Well." She swallowed again, hating how hard she had to fight for the right words. Wasn't she supposed to be the language expert? Wasn't she supposed to know the words when no one else did? "I thought that I was doing what was best. I was headed into my last year anyways, and I'd be assigned to a ship relatively soon. I didn't think he'd even really miss me. I cancelled pretty much everything we did- I couldn't stand to see him, didn't want to tarnish his reputation, didn't want him to suffer through it any longer than he had to, didn't want to put him in a difficult situation. And I couldn't let him now that there was a part of me that wished the rumors were true. I know now that I was running, but..."

"But at the time it made sense," Kirk supplied, and his eyes were dark.

Nyota bowed her head. "Yes." She sighed a little, pensive. Kirk was still watching her, with sympathy and sadness and a certain friendliness that hadn't been there previously in addition to the curiosity. She paused for a moment, glad when Kirk let herself piece by piece. "When everything was finally dying down, Gaila took me into San Francisco proper. She said it would be a girl's day out, that we would spend the day shopping, getting our hair and nails done, maybe do a massage. I think Gaila knew by then that I would have sold my soul at that point to get off campus. So we ended up spending the day together, relaxing, talking, and she told me that there was a new restaurant she wanted to try in Chinatown that she'd heard was really good, cheap food. I agreed, of course, because I was starving by that point, and she took me over to this really small little Chinese place tucked, I kid you not, in an alley."

She laughed at the memory, and this time the light-heartedness wasn't forced. She could almost see the cheery red and purple lamp over the door, with a simple plaque by the door reading "food" in Cantonese. It was the quintessential local eatery, that everyone who was a native of that culture knew like the back of their hand, but was a mystery to anyone who wasn't in the know. To this day, she didn't know how Gaila had discovered it, and she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to know.

"I told Gaila that I wasn't entirely sure it would be safe, but of course Gaila doesn't take no for an answer, and she herded me inside before I could protest again, promising that it would be great, that I was going to owe her big time. I didn't know what she meant until I walked through the door, and..." Nyota felt her mouth curl, delicious warmth seeping through her body, "Spock was waiting for me."

Kirk's blossoming smile was all the reaction she could have hoped for. He didn't try to say anything, didn't _need_ to say anything, just looked at her as though her revelation that Spock was waiting for her was as important to him as it had been- and still was- to her.

And she couldn't help but like him for it, just a little.

"I must have stared at him in shock for a full minute. When I turned to Gaila to say...well, I didn't know what I was going to say, but I was sure I was going to say something, she'd already gone. Everything passed in a blur- Spock leading me to the table, us ordering, all of it. I don't even remember what he said, if he said anything. Finally, in the middle of eating, all of a sudden I blurted out like a complete idiot, 'Is this a date?!'." Kirk chuckled at that, full and bright, and then covered his mouth with his hand, eyes still sparkling even as he motioned for her to continue. The story fell from her lips more easily now that she was past the worst bit of her story, and her eagerness showed.

"He didn't quite laugh, but he almost smiled at me, which I suppose is close enough, considering. And he told me..." she quieted then, not losing the humor of the situation as much as allowing it to be supplanted by the love that was painting itself across her features; Kirk wondered if she even knew it was happening. "I will never forget what he told me." Kirk stared at her, captured by her lovely features that stared off into the distance, looking at something else entirely, and waited with baited breath for her to continue.

"I have come to an understanding, recently," Nyota quoted, eyes falling shut as her voice took on the rich, even cadence of Spock's words, "that you have become a highly valued part of my life here in Starfleet. You are intelligent, kind, forthright, understanding, beautiful, and wise. I thought myself content with your friendship, until these past few weeks when our usual interactions have been missing; since your departure, I find that my daily routine lacks something intangible. I understand your concern, for there is a reason that fraternization between student and teacher is considered immoral, and I believed that your distancing yourself was only rational.

"Despite this knowledge, I still ask that you enter a relationship with me. My reasoning is as follows. Firstly, we are unlikely to enter into a true student-teacher relationship at this time. Though I have been mentoring you in an unofficial capacity for the past two years, you have already taken the courses that I teach that are a part of either the general education requirements or your degree in Communications. Therefore, this relationship cannot be said to have influenced those grades.

"Secondly, we are both mature consenting adults and I am confident that we will be able to separate our public and private lives. We have shown ourselves capable of that already- though we have been in a friendship for the past two years, the time it takes to complete our work has actually improved by seventeen percent during that time without resulting in a decrease of quality. Furthermore, at no point did our disagreements affect our ability to work with each other in our respective roles in the Vulcan Language department.

"Thirdly...thirdly, and perhaps most important, is that I wish for you to remain a part of my life for the foreseeable future. My mother has always instructed me that love must come first. She often told me of the story of how she met my father when I was young, telling me that if I believed myself to be in love with another, nothing should stop me from trying to find out if that love was worth binding myself to that individual permanently. I found the concept illogical, for I believed that love was not a good enough reason to disobey orders.

"I still...I still do not fully understand this instinct, I believe; I only understand that I find myself unable to imagine a future in which you are not involved my life. The possibility of...more than friendship, I find, is something I greatly desire. In Starfleet, where the future may be more fleeting than one imagines, I would not wish to live with the regret that we might have had something worth keeping if only had I had spoken. Though less permanent, there is every change that you and I will not be stationed on the same ship come graduation. Should that be the case, I would greatly prefer if we had something more than a fledgling relationship on which to rely. I...Nyota, would you...I would be pleased, should you agree to enter in a relationship with me."

There was silence in the room.

"It was stilted and formal, and for God's sake, he made a _list of reasons_ why I should date him," Nyota said and she was herself again, dropping that tone she'd used to so expertly mimic Spock. She couldn't help but laugh because _really_ , only Spock, he was the only one who would ever ask someone out like that, and it was so awkward it was _charming_ and she couldn't imagine wanting anything more.

"What did you say?" Kirk asked, breathless.

"What else _could_ I say?" she inquired in return. "I said yes."


	3. Act I scene iii

Nyota had not appreciated how chaotic the last few days before leaving the dock would be on the _Enterprise_. She had assumed somehow, that because of the added time for preparing the vessel, the process would be more streamlined, that there would be none of the confusion and mistakes that had come in those panicked hours before they'd gone out to reply to Vulcan's distress signal.

She'd been wrong.

If anything, the increased time had resulted in _more_ confusion, not less, and she found that the paperwork and requests and supplies and _everything_ that came with being Head of Communications was never ending. Furthermore, she'd found out that she was running the department a mere three and a half weeks prior, when Kirk revealed to her he'd been finally been approved to keep the same command team as he'd had on the vessel previously instead of the older, more experienced bridge crew the Admiralty had been trying to force on the youngest captain of a starship since Starfleet's foundation. Nyota understood the urge, of course, to try and keep Kirk with some sort of steady help that the Admiralty viewed as more reliable than a bunch of greenhorns who'd survived all of one mission, harrowing though it had been. She didn't mention that the Admiralty might be right, that the bridge crew of the _Enterprise_ might be in over its head.

However, the lateness of the Admiralty's final decision had resulted in her attempting to slog through everything that she needed to do before they went out on their first mission, not the least of which was approving all of the staff that Kirk had already brought on for the Communications department, in addition to scrambling to find people for some of the positions that he hadn't had the chance to fill as of yet and get them approved. It had become her primary job, secondary to everything else she needed to do, including packing. As a results, all of her belongings had been packed haphazardly in boxes that she just prayed would keep together long enough for her to get them into her quarters.

Though they'd be transported up, she nevertheless needed to carry them from the unloading bay up to her quarters, which she had yet to actually see. As a senior officer, she had a single, for which she was eternally grateful, and a bathroom that she would share with her neighbor. All the senior officer's rooms were set up in the same way, with the captain and first officer's rooms being the largest with a shared bathroom, followed by Medical and Engineering, Science and Communications, Navigation and Flight, and finally Security and Requisition. There were subgroups within these organizations, of course, and joint groups- while Recreation fell under Medical, Weapons was the joint responsibility of Security and Flight. Titles and responsibilities were fluid on a starship in ways she hadn't really expected based on the formal training of the Academy, but at the same time, she found she wasn't wholly unprepared; after all, she'd all but taken over Engineering's responsibility to repair the Communication department's intercoms and signaling system because they'd simply hadn't had enough people to do it.

Besides, Communications officers were trained how to take apart and put together basic equipment, and if one focused on technology within the communications department, they were taught to dismantle and repair everything from a universal translator to how to an intercom; it seems that every departments skills overlapped at least one others, usually more.

She set down the last box in her room with a heavy sigh, flapping a hand at her face in an effort to cool down a little. Looking around with more than a cursory interest, finally, she found that the room was reasonably decent sized, perhaps half again as large as the singles at the Academy, complete with a desk and chair, a general computer that could be used for everything from private calls to writing reports, a bed, beside table, closet, and even two comfortably looking padded chairs, should she have company. Furthermore, there was even a sliding partition that could mostly conceal her bed from view, though the effect of drawing it open made both halves of the room seem comparatively dwarfed.

She sighed, and began the arduous process of putting everything away where it belonged. This was her only time to do so, though, since she'd been working all day and would continue to do so for the next three days until the _Enterprise_ finally made her first official voyage into the black on a little diplomatic mission: picking up the Horta _Beckrack_ , their version of a Prime Minister, and ferrying him to New Vulcan.

Her hands paused in the thinking of the pitiful name the public had bestowed on the planet that the Vulcans had chosen as their new home, letting the shirt she'd been folding drop into her lap in an uncaring heap. The Vulcan people hadn't shown any express interest in naming their new land; or rather, if they had, they were keeping mum on it, and the planet had been named New Vulcan for lack of any suggestion by the individuals remaining who made up what survived of the Vulcan government. Nyota rather suspected that they had a name, because sometimes there was just a split second hesitation before Spock ever said the words, "New Vulcan," something that she wouldn't have caught if her instructors hadn't spent year drilling her in techniques for reading body language.

She wasn't sure how she felt about the Vulcans keeping the name secret. It wasn't good, precisely, or bad. It just...was. She wasn't sure if it would hurt or hinder their collective healing. After all, though they were a reticent and private people, wounds had to be cleaned or they would fester. On the other hand, so much of their life and history was being splashed across every news channel worth its salt that maybe it was better for them to have something that was solely theirs.

But she had no time to be dwelling on matters such as those, and so she returned to her unpacking, though she moved with a pensiveness that hadn't been previously apparent.

As she expected, the next few days flew by quick as lightening. A million last minute details were piling up on her plate, and despite her best efforts, she was beginning to fear that she'd never complete everything on time.

Kirk was both a blessing and a curse. Though he was instrumental in smoothing her path in subtle ways, doing everything from compiling lists of available Communications officers with a focus in xenolinguistics like her to making sure her supplies were coming in, he was also her biggest frustration.

Whenever he saw her, he pressed her for the details of Spock's decision.

It might not have been so bad if she'd had so much as a hint or a clue herself; the pair of them could have dissected every nuance and come to a conclusion as to what Spock could possibly be thinking. However, with the unexpected pressures that came from being responsible for Communications as its senior officer and the subsequent duties, she hadn't spoken to Spock in two weeks, intending to each night and instead collapsing around eleven or twelve when she'd finished all that she needed to and then beginning at seven again the next morning in an effort to be ready for the ship's departure on what would be its crew's official maiden voyage. Previous to that, she'd been unwilling to pressure him for an answer, despite the fact that she desperately wanted to know what was going to happen next. She'd thought she'd had enough time, but then her duties had swallowed her, the enforced distance making her grouchy and irritable. Spock and his calm intelligence had been her touchstone since they first become friends, and she was sorely lacking him as a counterweight for her frustrations. In all, there'd simply been no time, and what had started out as simply sheer busyness had transmuted into a subtle, quaking fear that Spock wasn't going to be on the _Enterprise_ , and she was terrified of finding out the answer now, since as every day passed and still they heard no news either from Spock himself or the Admiralty as to who would be coming on board as First Officer made it less likely that Spock would be joining them.

That fear became a constant dull thudding in her veins by the time the morning dawned for their first mission, equal parts worry and fury and confusion and a heart-wrenching sadness that made her want to just crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over her head. She didn't want to acknowledge the fact that she'd been so stubborn that she hadn't even said goodbye, hadn't been able to give herself the closure that she was already craving.

Instead, she composed herself and got ready for duty, making sure that not a hair was out of place of her ponytail, that it hung down her back long and sleek and elegant. If she was going to face this, she was going to face it with her game face on, and deal with her sense of betrayal in a place that was more conducive to such things than the bridge. Her red dress was surprisingly soft against her skin, considering it was a uniform. Her black boots were neatly polished, and the slight heels to them made her back straighter, made her life her chin. She stared in the mirror confidently. "I can do this."

She _would_ do this, no matter what.

This had been her choice, and she would choose to face whatever came next, for better or for worse.

Even so, her heart beat unsteadily as she made her way to the turbolift and then to the bridge. A moment after she stepped through, Kirk held up his hand in the universal, "one moment, please," gesture to the eagerly talking Chekov and came over to her.

Her heart beat a faster, more even rhythm as he stood close, just outside the boundaries of her personal space. The look on his face was one of an understated devastation that he couldn't afford to display to the crew in general. "I got a message from the Admiralty about an hour ago saying that they've assigned a First Officer to the _Enterprise_ , and that he would be ready to be beamed up fifteen minutes before the ship was set to leave the dock." There was a heavy bleakness in his eyes, and Nyota knew her expression was no better.

She opened her mouth, searching for what to say, but what could be said? There could be no condolences for this, not for either of them, and tears pricked at her eyes, because she'd been so sure that Spock had been different, that he'd had the common decency to at least tell her he didn't want to see her anymore, circumstances be damned. And he'd strung Kirk along too; at least with a firm no, Kirk could have moved on to his second choice. Instead, he was now strapped with whomever the Admiralty had seen fit to give to him, someone that was almost guaranteed to be in their pocket first, and Kirk's supporter second. Nyota wanted to _curse_ Spock, wanted to hit him, wanted to make him understand how _hurt_ she was by all of this. She even wanted to get her revenge for Kirk's sake, because he deserved better than that.

The thought shocked her, interrupted her train of thought, but then it solidified and she steeled herself.

Yes. Not even Kirk deserved this.

They would give each other no apologies or speak of their sorrows, but there was an understanding between them now, though of what sort Nyota wasn't sure.

Then even the bleakness in Kirk's expression had been painted over, and Nyota allowed herself to draw strength from him with a soft hand on the gold command he wore so effortlessly. He let his own fingers rest against hers, and then she pulled away, going to the Communications console and beginning her checks of the system, making sure that everyone in her department was ready to go. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she watched as Kirk kept a tight hold on his mask and returned to his conversation with Chekov, laughing and talking as though nothing were wrong.

It made her turn back to her console, resolving to do the same.

Finally, they were ready to leave the Earth space dock, everyone in their proper positions and waiting for their Captain's order. It was almost anticlimactic, truth be told, because they'd all been loitering around the bridge for an additional hour after the time they'd been supposed to get on their way, and though there was still a nervous energy, it was off. Nyota, like everyone else, didn't mention the obvious- Kirk's new First hadn't yet come to the bridge, and though she could see it grated on him, she could also see his pride refusing to let him do anything about it. It seemed the inclement battle of wills had already begun. To distract himself, Kirk had taken himself off to Engineering for a little while, clearly hoping it would distract him for at least a little while, and Nyota called him back to the bridge, where he belonged with her prompt that the dock had finally contacted her to inform her that they were ready.

"I'm on my way," Kirk said. "Tell Sulu to get my baby started up. I'll be there in less than a minute." Nyota relayed the command smoothly to Sulu, who perked up, fingers flying over the keyboards.

"We have thrusters at your command, sir," Sulu said promptly.

Right on his heels, Chekov was chiming in with, "Weapon systems and shields on standby," in a satisfied tone.

That was her cue, and Nyota sat straighter, turning to face Kirk as she declared, "Dock control reports ready, Captain." As she spoke, the doors to the bridge opened, and Kirk stepped through, eyes sweeping over the room, step quick and confident. His expression didn't change when he saw that his First was _still_ not on the bridge despite the fact that they were about to take off. His eyes landed on McCoy, however, who had joined them fifteen minutes prior in what he called, "Making sure Jim doesn't scratch the paint," which was nigh ridiculous, considering that Kirk wasn't flying the ship, and even if he had been, McCoy's presence wouldn't have been in the least helpful.

"Bones!" Kirk called out cheerfully. "Buckle up!" She smothered the grin that threatened to escape at the, "Why me?" expression that was so perfectly painted with the doctor's rolled eyes and general and constant air of exasperation.

Nyota turned back to the console as Kirk settled himself in the chair and asked, "Scotty, how're we doing?"

"Dilithium chambers at maximum," the Scotsman reported cheerfully, followed quickly by, "Get down!" that had the entire bridge attempting to cover up their laughter with almost painfully faux coughs. They settled almost immediately, of course, every nerve tingling as they waited for Kirk's next order, for them to finally depart, to take the _Enterprise_ out into the black once more.

"Mr. Sulu, prepare to engage thrusters."

 _That's it_ , Nyota thought, and this was possibly the worst time ever for her heart to break _. We're leaving. We're actually leaving._

The turbolift doors opened.

Everyone's head turned.

Spock stepped through.

Nyota's next breath came as a gasp as she whirled fully to face him, knowing her eyes were going wide. She just barely restrained her urge to go over and slap him for what he'd put her through, and then kiss him because he was _here_ , and now the energy in the room was dangerously, intoxicatingly high because they were complete again. The bridge was complete and they could do absolutely _anything_ , they would because with Kirk and Spock leading them, Nyota was positive that they'd do the impossible on a daily basis just to prove they could.

And then she caught sight of Kirk's face, and her world narrowed to the pair of them.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" That was Spock's voice, carefully cool and deliberately calm; it was the voice he used most often when he had the inkling that he'd done something to anger Nyota and he wasn't exactly sure why. It was what she'd mentally dubbed his, "dangerous waters- tread with caution" voice that was somehow also laced with a certain humor, like this had all been a game.

"Permission granted." She took in Kirk's relieved expression, the way he was so careful to restrain any outward surges of joy, but the broad smile, however brief, spoke for itself.

There was a trembling tension in the air that made her hair stand on end. "As you have yet to select a First Officer, respectively I'd like to submit my candidacy." And yes, that tone of caution had melted away, leaving only the subtle humor and the peace in Spock's eyes that told anyone who was looking that he knew without doubt that he'd made the right decision.

Kirk stood as Spock spoke, and he had a careful restraint to his posture, like he couldn't believe this was real, that this absolutely _had_ to be too good to be true, like this was a gift beyond price. It was almost as if he was holding himself back from touching Spock to prevent the mirage from being ruined. "Should you desire, I can provide character references," Spock continued, as though they hadn't fought a war and won together. And Nyota wanted to laugh, and cry, because that was Spock to the bone, and she could see the way Kirk's shoulders relaxed with something even she couldn't read.

Kirk just met Spock's eyes squarely, equally, and said in a quiet voice that shouldn't have carried and yet did, "It would be my honor, Commander." Kirk sounded like he meant it, and the respect and joy was intoxicating. They just stared at each other for a moment, and then Spock looked away, the tension melting into a pure, sweet energy that filled the entire room to the brim as Spock looked around him at the being who were as much his as he was theirs.

Spock walked towards her, then, and wanted to hold out her arms and kiss him senseless. She stood from her console and took one step forward, and then another. "Maneuvering thrusters, Mr. Sulu," Kirk continued as though there'd been no interruption, and Nyota was momentarily distracted from Spock by the unadulterated purity of Kirk's smile as he sat down again.

Then Spock walked past her, motion deliberate, and he met her eyes with confidence and apology and a bone-deep certainty that did more than his words ever could to reassure her. Oh, they'd talk still, because he could not _ever_ do that to her again, but it was hard to stay angry when he gazed at her like that, like all the pieces of his universe were finally in place. "Thrusters on standby," she heard Sulu say distantly, but she was too busy grinning, wide and broad with a heart lighter than she'd been since she'd argued with Spock to let her on the _Enterprise_ almost four months ago now. She went back to her console, Spock on her right at the science station, Kirk behind her, and she rather thought she knew how Spock felt.

Because everything in her universe finally seemed right too.

~*~

_Fade to black_


	4. Act II scene i

_Act II_

_The curtain rises_

_The lights do not come up on stage, however. Instead, points of light begin to glitter in the background; they are stars. A ponderous object begins to move across the set, almost too dark to be seen in the dim light. However, as the stars begin to burn brighter and more intensely, the hull of a starship begins to form from light and shadow, the sleek silver of the burnished metal glimmering in starlight._

_She is a beautiful figure, all sharp curves and elegant lines. She is a ship that deserves to be known as the flagship of the Federation. She is something that inspires awe of the greatest degree. A subtle illumination is brought up on stage, just enough to throw the shape of her into full relief, revealing the words that were painted upon her with the greatest care._

_NCC-1701._

_More important than the NCC-1701, however, is the name the_ U.S.S. Enterprise _._

_She will carry them into all situations- and out of them. She will guard them as best she can. She will help them explore, help them guide, help them protect. She will lead them to greatness._

_And yet, she is not the most important thing; far more important are the beings inside her._

_The lights fall again, and the_ Enterprise _continues to move off the stage in the darkness; in this, she is only a setting, only the venue. What she thinks of this, she cannot say, and so there is only the quiet of space._

_The proper lights come up again, and there is a hull before the audience's eyes, metal riveted to metal to form a barrier against the cold darkness; there is a single round window on the left hand side. That, too, slides away, revealing the room inside._

~*~

Nyota had always been very careful to keep her relationship with Spock discreet. Admittedly, technically now that they were both a part of the bridge crew, they were permitted in Starfleet's eyes to be open about it as long as their ability to perform their duties wasn't called into question, but the pair of them were nothing if not pragmatic. They'd made the unspoken agreement that authorized or not, discretion would prevent any untoward conclusions from being drawn and would aid them in maintaining their professionalism.

Still, sometimes Nyota wondered what it would have been like to be truly open about their relationship, to go walking on the beach hand in hand, to kiss just because they felt like it and not worry about the respect of their colleagues faltering, to be able to spend a lazy morning in bed with one another simply because they could. It wasn't regret, precisely, just a bit of nostalgia for days when she didn't have such responsibility on her shoulders.

Spock always brought her out of her moods, however, with a kind word or a gentle touch. Whoever said Vulcans were completely emotionless had no idea what they were talking about. It was subtle, of course, and they didn't think of emotions the same way, didn't act on them the same way, but the reasons for Spock's actions didn't matter to Nyota, not when there was warmth spreading through her body at one of Spock's kisses.

Nyota permitted herself a smile, slow and genuine in the privacy of her quarters before schooling her face into the neutrality that she prided herself on having mastered. She worried, sometimes, that she was trying too hard to be professional, frightened that she was _way_ too young for this job especially with people who had several years more experience working under her. She'd gotten through most of that in a practical manner: she'd simply shown them why she'd been picked, and made sure that she did as much grunt work as the rest of them. There would always be those who hated her for one reason or another, but Nyota couldn't afford to let it get to her and she certainly wouldn't give them the opportunity to justify their erroneous assumptions by behaving like a spoiled child who stomped her foot every time she didn't get her way.

She left her quarters, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and a cordial smile on her face, the hum of the _Enterprise_ rising through her boots, the heartbeat to which everyone on this vessel moved, herself included. It was times like these that she could almost understand Scotty's absolute devotion to the _Enterprise_.

She seated herself in front of her console; Spock was already next to her at the science console, face impassive as he examined some data. He drew up several more graphs, studying them in detail before sending along a quick message to someone. When he was finished his work, Nyota rested a hand on Spock's arm for a moment in greeting. Spock turned and rested a large, slender hand on top hers, face warming subtly. "Good morning."

Nyota grinned. "Good morning." She turned her hand over, tracing her first two fingers against Spock's own. It was an appropriate compromise, she thought. It was a Vulcan kiss, so the expression of intimacy was there but it was subtle enough that unless one was looking for it, it was easy to miss. It was also nice, in a way, to be reminded that they were still friends; for all it was an intimate gesture for Vulcans and she treated it as such, it didn't give her the same feelings as it did for Spock. The gesture was more platonic than anything, and served to remind her that they weren't just lovers. On a ship like the _Enterprise,_ such reminders of balance were crucial.

Spock's mouth was soft as he drew his hand away and Nyota did the same. She opened her mouth ask him what he was doing, because though she was an experts in xenolinguistics, not physics or chemistry or any of the eight or so other sciences that Spock was qualified to teach, she found the work that the _Enterprise's_ scientists did to be fascinating, to borrow a phrase. Spock hadn't always possessed a talent for explaining the core of his research to her a non-scientist, but these days he was getting the hang of describing it in terms that she'd understand. When they'd met, he had always been the sort that had expected her to follow along with his train of thought. It was, admittedly, a strange sort of compliment, but there was only so much talk of chemical fluorescence and molar ellipticity that she could grasp before she was confused.

However, before a single word could leave her lips, Kirk walked in, talking eagerly with Sulu about piloting the _Enterprise_ in comparison to the other ships he'd been at the helm of. They spoke for perhaps a minute more before departing for their stations. As Sulu headed for his console, slipping into the seat beside Chekov, Kirk greeted everyone on the bridge, making sure to ask after either an interest of theirs, or looking for clarification on something, or, in the cases of their non-human crewmembers, Kirk asked after their comfort. The _Enterprise_ was predominantly human, but Kirk had always been careful to listen to everyone's complaints and do his best to make sure the needs of every species aboard the ship were met.

Nyota and Spock exchanged raised eyebrows, but both knew the other was pleased. Somewhere along the way, there had been an entirely unspoken discussion that as First Officer and Communications Officer, they would keep an eye on the diplomatic relations of the ship, as it were. However, Kirk had proven himself surprisingly adept at coaxing truces not only from warring nations, but also from warring individuals on the ship. Nyota in particular had worried that his inability to hold his tongue at a crucial moment would get someone killed, but her fears had been thus far unfounded. Oh, it was true enough that more than once Kirk had put his foot in his mouth, but never when it really mattered, something that was slowly filtering into his personal life too, as demonstrated by his cordial and completely genuine greeting of everyone one the bridge. Nyota had furthermore seen him discussing both trivial and important matters with beings whose name even she didn't know, and it made her relax, knowing that they were in good hands.

And if the serenity glowing in Spock's eyes was anything to go by, he respected Kirk as much as Nyota did. It was good, to see them mending the bridges they'd both done such a good job at burning when they first met. Nyota hadn't been entirely sure it would ever happen.

As Kirk got settled into the Captain's chair, Spock leaned across towards her, and Nyota swiveled to face him.

"Would you be amendable to dinner in my quarters tonight?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Spock never asked her such things in public, preferring privacy when discussing matters not strictly related to the _Enterprise_ or Starfleet in general. It was something she could respect, the desire to want to all but draw lines between what could be considered 'public' and what could be considered 'private'. Even now, he wasn't asking her to go make out with him in one of the Rec rooms or anything so dramatic- just to dinner.

Even so, Nyota could feel herself flushing all over at the little acknowledgment of their relationship. She liked being reminded on occasion that Spock genuinely wanted her, that he wanted to make her happy with simple things. "Of course," she murmured back. "I'd be delighted to."

Spock simply sat back in his chair in front of the science console, eyes bright with joy as he gazed at her.

Nyota grinned.

~*~

"You know Spock is going to rescue us."

There was a delicate silence, then, "I would rather hope so, Kirk." There was a certain bravado to the words despite the sarcasm. Then, more seriously, "If anyone can talk us out of here, it's him."

Kirk scooted forward from the opposite wall as close to her as their shackles would allow, until his ankle rested against her hip. They couldn't quite reach out and touch one another, but he was close enough that she could feel some of his warmth against her leg, which she appreciated. She rested a hand on top of his shin. It was cold in the room, of course, considering the walls and the floor were entirely made of stone, and she was seriously doubtful that they'd be given anything as convenient and hospitable as a blanket. With a mental sigh, she resigned herself to a cold wait and simply hoped that when they were fed- _if_ they were fed- the food would be both edible and warm. They sat there for long moments, unsure what to do next.

"Do you want to play 'I Spy'?" Kirk suggested suddenly, after nearly fifteen minutes of stilted silence. "There's nothing better to do in here."

"So we can spy the grey rocks, the grey rocks, or the pockmarks in the grey rocks?" Nyota asked with no small amount of sarcasm.

She half-expected him to snap back at her- something that even she fully admitted she deserved- but she was cold and dirty and tired and she was absolutely _sick_ of being dumped into jails on the flimsiest of pretences, thanks all the same. This was the forth mission in a _row_ that this had happened to her. Indeed, it looked for a long moment he was going to reprimand her, but after a moment he said instead mildly, "Well, I would have suggested 'Never Have I Ever', but considering there's no alcohol in the vicinity, I vetoed it."

The tension in her broke and she threw back her head and laughed. "I would _never_ play a drinking game with you, Captain or not. I used to think I could hold my liquor, and then I met you."

Kirk polished his fingernails against his ragged gold uniform. "I have my moments."

"On occasion," Nyota agreed companionably, finally cracking a smile. How did he always do that these days, always manage to break her back mood simply by virtue of being himself? A year ago, she would have rolled her eyes at that statement and returned to ignoring him, but now she just felt the tension in her shoulders ease a little.

"Ah!" Kirk waggled his eyebrows at her, and then, as if speaking into an invisible comm, said, "And for the first time on film, we've recorded the elusive Lieutenant Uhura's smile. It was once thought that such a thing could only happen as a result of a series of complex meteorological effects and locational- is locational even a word?- events, such as the blue moon causing Hell to freeze over."

His grin was so wide and genuine that it was rather difficult not to break into an even wider smile as a result, and she dissolved into giggles befitting a girl half her age. She lightly smacked his leg, the only thing in reach. "Alright, alright, I see your point. There's no sense in stressing over something we can't control." She would still stress a little, because she couldn't help it, but dwelling on it would only give their jailers the psychological advantage.

"And besides, we both know Spock's the best," Kirk added seriously, fondness in his face. Then a bit of color crept across his cheeks and he added hurriedly, "That's why I wanted him for the _Enterprise_ , after all. I wasn't going to let anyone less than the best work in my baby."

"And Spock _is_ the best," Nyota agreed, face soft. She would be the first to admit that he wasn't perfect, but God, it certainly seemed like it at times.

Kirk awkwardly cleared his throat. "So, it's you and me for the foreseeable future. I think-"

"If you finish that sentence with any variation on any sort of sex, I will be forced to rethink the fact that you're growing on me," Nyota interrupted.

Kirk blanched. "No! No, I swear, I wasn't thinking that at all, I wouldn't- I mean, it's different, because I know..." his arms flailed a little as he tried to express exactly what he knew.

Nyota blinked, startled and a little bewildered. "I was just joking," she hastened to explain. Kirk was beginning to look _really_ panicked, which hadn't been her intention. "I...I trust you. You wouldn't ever think about that, not now. Relax, I really was just teasing you."

 _And since when is that the case?_ Nyota thought abruptly. _Since when have I felt that I could joke with him about that_?  
"Oh. Oh, good," Kirk said, a little stilted and unsure if Nyota was being serious. He looked like he was genuinely waiting for the other shoe to drop. It made her feel rather guilty. She hadn't thought she'd been _that_ harsh in the past. "Sorry, I'm just not used to you joking around like that." He cleared his throat. "So. Anyways. Like I said, it's you, me, and these rocks until Spock gets us the hell outta Dodge, so we may as well do something to pass the time. It's that or sit here in a delightfully awkward silence. I personally vouch for the first option."

"As do I. What do you suggest?" Nyota asked. "And not I Spy, seriously. That isn't going to work when all we can see is stone and each other."

"20 Questions?" Kirk suggested, frowning a little in thought. "Um, I'm afraid most of the games that I know involve drinking, cards, or both."

"Um, I know a couple of variants on Truth or Dare that we could do," Nyota volunteered, "and Concentration 64- this is like a trip down memory lane to my childhood- some word-association games, planets," she counted them off on her fingers, then stopped, trying to remember what else she'd done as a child with her sisters during long flights or rides. "That's all I remember," she finally admitted.

"That's more than I remember," Kirk told her, shrugging a little. "Any particular attachment to any of them? You'll, uh, have to tell me how to do most of them."

Nyota frowned a little in confusion. "You never did hand games or any of that as a kid?" she asked. "What did you do for long trips?"

Kirk half turned, starting out of the cell, as if the iron bars keeping them from freedom were the most interesting things he'd seen in a long time. Nyota bit her lip, because it didn't take a genius to put things together; few people who have a genuinely happy childhood end up picking a fight in a bar over a girl he's just met. "We didn't do much traveling."

There were plenty of stories there, of course, none of which are her business, so she nods, ignoring the fact that she'd learned them from her friends when they played in the shade on a hot afternoon before she'd ever traveled anywhere. So she said instead, "I'll kick your ass if you're not careful, and then I'm going to be morally obligated to tell everyone we know that I beat you at a child's game," she sighed, a little theatrically. "You'll probably never live it down." By the time she stopped speaking, the light-heartedness was almost not-forced.

"Oh, bring it on," Kirk informed her, competitiveness getting the better of him. "If that's how we're playing of it, then I fully reserve the right to mock you whenever I see you for losing a game you've played for a years to a newbie."

"Oh, you're on." Nyota grinned. She was competitive too, as she was sure he knew. "In that case, Concentration 64 is probably the best one. It's technically a hand game, but as long as we keep a steady beat by tapping out feet or something, we should be able to manage it. You play by saying different names in a certain category, like 'Animals' or 'Planets' or 'Presidents', and whoever is the first to repeat a word or hesitate- another name for this game is sometimes Hesitation- loses. Simple enough."

Kirk nodded. "So what kind of beat are we talking about?"

Nyota obliged him by starting a fairly slow beat, tapping her foot about once per second, to give them a good bit of time to think. It had been years since she'd played, after all. "We'll start nice and slow, and as we get the hang of it, we can speed up."

"Sounds good."

They spent at least five hours going over every possible permutation of Concentration 64, Planets, Never Have I Ever, as well as the other games they'd suggested, but both of them were getting frustrated, doubts crawling into their hearts. They were trying to put on a good face for each other, of course, for all they knew that the longer they remained in jail, the more likely it was that Spock had failed and had been unable to ensure their release. Even more taxing was the fact that they couldn't even tell when it grew dark; there were no windows in their cell, deep underground as it was, and thus there was no way to tell time beyond their internal clocks.

Nyota dropped out in the middle of yet another game of Concentration 64, stopping the beat abruptly. "Yes!" Kirk crowed, a little too loud, a little too cheerful. "Victory!"

Nyota just turned away from him, pulling back a little-ways. Kirk realized that she wasn't even putting up the pretence of really enjoying herself anymore, and the smile fell away from his face, leaving him looking as drained as Nyota. "We should start making plans for our escape," Nyota murmured eventually. "If they won't release us- and don't give me any crap about keeping faith in Spock, I am, but...not everyone is a receptive to logic as Vulcans are." She shook her head. "And we don't even know what we did to get thrown in here." She rubbed a hand across her face. "I think that a contingency plan just in case might be necessary. You know, in case they simply refuse to let us go."

"I'm not going to blame you for thinking what might happen if Spock fails to talk us out of here," Kirk said quietly, creeping as close as he could, straining against the shackles to try and comfort her. It was sweet, really. "I..." he licked his lips, looking nervous. "I don't think we're getting out of here, not by negotiation. If we were, Spock would have gotten us out by now. He talks a good game, better than almost anyone I've seen." For a minute he looked as worried as she felt, uncertainty tearing at her. This feeling of being captured, the not knowing- it never got any easier. "But I think we should have faith that he'll come to rescue us even if that fails. Even if Starfleet tries to order him away, he won't leave you. He can't." Kirk smiled crookedly.

Nyota had to blink rapidly several times, the events of the day finally catching up with her, despite her best efforts. Kirk was right. Spock had proven that he wouldn't leave her- wouldn't leave anyone- behind if there was any possible way of keeping them. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, expression clearing.

Eyes clear, Nyota said, "We're going to need get out of these chains."

"That's my girl!" Kirk's smile was the soft, genuine one. Even with dirt on his face, a bruise forming around one eye, and blood dried on his wounds, he still looked happy.

"There's one last thing, though," Nyota said, catching Kirk's attention when he turned to survey their cell for a second time, this time with an eye to any potentially useful items. "My friends call me Nyota." It didn't feel as reluctant as it should have been, to say that to him, to give away free use of her name. It was just natural- well overdue, actually, because he'd proven himself worthy of more than contempt months ago.

"I- Uh- yeah. Um. O-okay. Nyota." Kirk stammered with no small amount of disbelief.

"This is the part where you thank me, and I warn you that if you abuse my first name, I reserve the right to knee you where it hurts." If she'd been able to, Nyota would have propped her hands on her hips for effect.

"I'm your Captain!" Kirk complained instantly, more reflexively than anything else. "I'm pretty sure that I can write you up for saying that to me!" She might have said something to that, quipped back a short response because that's what they did, but her breath caught in her lungs and left her without a voice.

It didn't matter, though. She didn't need to say a damn thing because the threat was completely and utterly belied by the absolutely _blinding_ smile on Jim's face.

~*~

The makers of the _Enterprise_ would have the crew believe that the majority of the vessel was soundproof.

This was not, in fact, the case.

Not that Nyota was surprised, exactly. At best, one could only muffle the roar of the engines or the high whine of photons being fired, and being able to fly had certain parameters, such as weight, and soundproofing everything, _really_ soundproofing every nook and cranny instead simply the major area would have added thousands of pounds in weight to the _Enterprise_.

That being said, she wasn't entirely sure how the Captain's ready room, one of the few places where sensitive material was handled daily, where plans were made and the future of the _Enterprise_ planned, wasn't considered important enough to soundproof. Or at least not very well; she was a few feet away, and she could still hear the murmur of Spock and Jim's voices coming from the closed door. Or perhaps it was the door that ruined the effects of the soundproofing. After all, the door was still just a door.

There was a particularly vehement shout, and Nyota's mouth tightened as a passing yeoman gave the door a wary look. She looked at the PADD in her hand, and with obvious indecision, continued on her way, barely glancing at Nyota who was still hovering near the door.

Nyota debated knocking on the door anyways in order to discuss getting a few more communications officers who were experts in the universal translator on board the _Enterprise_. Though she knew she was interrupting something, it was better that she interrupt than let the argument continue. It would temporarily distract them from their anger, hopefully, and when she was finished speaking to them, maybe they'd be less inclined to fling insults at one another. And both of them were too smart to give her talk for the interruption, and besides, if it came to that, she was more than capable of holding her own. There was a reason that hell didn't have the fury of a scorned woman.

Her hand was raised, her PADD tightly gripped in the other and held against her chest as though it would service as a shield, when suddenly their voices lowered.

Almost against her will she stepped as close as she could to the door, closing her eyes and listening. She had an acute ear for sounds, and she could just barely make out the words despite the walls between them.

"-don't have the time," Jim was saying, voice stressed. It was the same voice he'd used when he'd stowed away on the _Enterprise_ and was trying to convince them all that the anomaly that had led to the _Kelvin_ being destroyed was likely the same thing that was causing the space anomaly now. His tone was equal parts frustrated that they were being so willfully blind and carefully neutral, trying not to sound biased. "Not when I've got a million things to do before we reach the Neutral Zone!"

Nyota could picture his face, mouth turned down at the corners and eyes flashing as he paced the room, trying to work off the restless energy before he did something to Spock that he would come to regret. There was a moment of tense silence that was broken when there was the sound of a chair against the floor, the rustle of cloth. Spock, she'd guess, sitting. There was a second, heavier collapse, and Nyota's eyes narrowed as though she could glare at Jim through the door. She'd thought he'd been looking tired the last few days as everyone grew more and more on edge as they approached the Neutral Zone, but her own duties had distracted her, and it had been too easy to explain it away.

It seemed that Spock had been paying attention, however, supporting Jim even now, though not in the manner that their Captain might wish. Then again, if Jim was looking for someone he could just run over with his forceful personality, he wouldn't have recruited Spock so heavily in the first place.

They were quiet for a full minute before Jim spoke again, this time much calmer, though there was a note of stubbornness in his voice even now. "Look, I'll go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight, I promise, but I've _got_ to get through my work before then, understand? End of discussion."

"It is _not_ the end of this discussion," Spock countered, and there was a depth to his voice that made Nyota shiver in a way that was neither good nor bad. "It is my duty as First Officer-"

"I've had it up to _here_ with you and your duties!" Jim shouted, and there was the raw scrape of the chair over the metal of the floor. Fury and helplessness were thick in Jim's voice, and Nyota had to restrain a gasp, lest either of them somehow realize that she was standing outside the door. "Either I shirk my duties as Captain and take off the rest of alpha shift to sleep, or I shirk my duties by continuing my apparent love affair with sleep deprivation. There's no possible way to win with you!"

"This isn't a game to be won or lost," Spock said back, and there was a definite undercurrent of something irritated- that is to say, if Spock sounded irritated, then he was damn near furious. There was a long breath as Spock got himself under control, and Jim resumed his pacing. Nyota could hear Kirk's boots as they hit the floor. "I am here to support you." It almost killed Nyota, how honest and earnest he sounded. "Perhaps a compromise?"

"What do you suggest?" Kirk just sounded flat out exhausted, and there was a second sound of the chair scraping across the floor, but no accompanying _thump_ \- Spock was standing, then.

Spock's voice was low and persuasive. Nyota couldn't recall him ever using that tone before. "I am your First Officer. It's my duty to support you. Give some of your work to me, I-"

"Spock, no. You already do more than enough as my First, I can't count how many times you've pulled my ass out of the fire, I can't ask you to do more." Guilt was heavy in Jim's voice.

"Then allow me to aid you as your friend, Jim."

Nyota couldn't hear it if Jim swallowed, but she could clearly hear the raspy tone in Jim's voice when he said, "I guess I better tell Chekov you've got the comm, then."

Even if Spock wasn't actually smiling behind those closed doors, Nyota could nevertheless practically see the smile in his voice as he said, "I hope you have a satisfactory rest, and look forward to your return to the bridge, Captain."

Nyota beat a hasty retreat, knowing that Jim was in good hands.


	5. Act II scene ii

"Lights, thirty percent," Nyota croaked just before her usual programming could raise the lights all the way. Even with the lights barely illuminating the room, she had to shield her eyes and navigate through her room carefully so she didn't run into anything because her throbbing head occupied the majority of her attention. She toed off her boots, trying to keep the room from spinning.

She didn't suffer migraines more than a handful of times a year, but when they hit, they tended to last for a good twenty four hours if she didn't sleep the worst of it off as soon as she felt one building in her temples. Nyota thanked every deity she could think of as she collapsed down on her bed and curled herself in a tight ball, barely remembering to pull the covers up over her. They'd never been bad enough or frequent enough that she had to keep medicine on hand, and as a result, Doctor McCoy had agreed to let her head back to her room after she'd stopped to see him so long as she had someone to check in on her. She'd sent a message along to Spock and gone back to her room, the lights starting to make her already pounding temples worse.

As she waited for the medicine to kick in and ease her headache and nausea, she forced back a tremble in her limbs. Migraines made her feel helpless in a way other injuries didn't. She felt trapped in her own body, and she just wanted the next few hours to pass as quickly as possible.

Nyota didn't really sleep, but she dozed lightly and fitfully, keeping her eyes resolutely shut as she waited for the pain reliever to do its job; she'd taken it before the worst of it had set in, and she hoped it would keep things from getting too much worse. She already thought she'd throw up if she so much as opened her eyes, though, so she didn't see how much worse it could get.

The sound of the door sliding open hit her like a physical blow, and she whimpered a little at the sound, stomach roiling uncomfortably. _Spock, probably_ , she thought in a rather distant manner. He was the only one likely to come in without first announcing himself, and he was too courteous to chime her if he already knew she had a migraine.

Sure enough, not even thirty seconds later there were cool fingers against the hot flesh of her face. She leaned into them. Spock's hands urged her to look up, to open his eyes, which she did with reluctance. "Ashayam, sahrafel lu." [Beloved, trust me.]

"Of course." Nyota blinked a little in the light, unable to focus entirely on Spock. He looked worried, though. And strained- usually his face was unlined, but today there were heavy brackets around his mouth. "I always do, you know." It was true, and it made Spock exhale in relief. Nyota wondered if this was a dream; Spock, showing emotion on his face, sighing in relief? It wasn't like him, not in the least. Admittedly, he'd become softer around her these days, had let her into his thoughts, into his feelings, but he had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

"Kup gol-nev nash-veh, hi kah-if bol-tor kalri kup ki' dul kal-tor va dau dul kashek." [I am able to help, but it is necessary that I have your permission to touch your mind.]

Spock's pupils were enormous in the dark of the room, and Nyota swallowed, pinned beneath his entrancing gaze. They hadn't done this, hadn't even broached the subject, too wary and nervous and frightened because touching minds was something so unbearably intimate and foreign and _important_ , and Nyota wasn't even sure what she was supposed to do about it. It was a matter better left un-discussed until she was sure they were forever, that she was willing to be his everything in _every_ sense of the word.

She'd done some research, and she knew what it meant, to marry- to _bond_ \- to a Vulcan, and she wouldn't give Spock anything less than her full heart, not when they would be tied together in ways she couldn't even begin to describe. They hadn't- God, they hadn't even had sex yet, not really, just some mutual hand jobs for the most part. This, at least, explained the deluge of Vulcan that she hadn't really been mentally prepared for. Asking for her permission in his native tongue- mind-melds were as close to sacred to Vulcans as anything else. The almost ritualistic precision with which Spock had spoken gave the words an added weight and depth that couldn't have been anything but purposeful.

Nevertheless, Nyota kind of wished he'd asked this when she had some hope of responding normally.

Opening her mouth felt not unlike signing her life away.

She meet Spock's gaze squarely, then, and wondered, _Would I have it any different_?

No. She wouldn't.

"Du ki' t'nash-veh kal-tor." [You have my permission.]

Spock's eyes were heated in the darkness of her room, and his fingers slid up her face, ghostly against her skin until they rested against her meld points. He whispered something, too low for her to hear, and-

Honestly, it wasn't something she could put into words. It was just the sense that Spock was closer than he'd ever been before, like he was inside her skin, like they were one person. It was strange, but not wholly unwelcome and though an intrinsic part fought back, the rest of her quelled it, because she _did_ trust Spock, trusted him with her mind and her heart, and she knew she was on the verge of giving away her soul as well. The amorphous feeling of Spock settled then, and she could see visions of her life around her, memories and emotions and thoughts surrounding her like tangible things.

 _If there is something you do not wish me to see, merely close them behind a door, or cover it with a cloth. I will not gaze upon them_. She had no doubt that if he really wanted to, he'd be able to tear through her flimsy defenses, but Spock's mental touch was like a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth- thoughtlessly intimate and kind, and sweeter than she could have hoped. He didn't say she was wrong though, and something like laughter bubbled through her jumbled mindscape. If they were going to do this again, she was going to need some lessons.

 _I'd be glad to_. Spock's voice was shyer and more hesitant here, their minds and thus their emotions meeting more freely. It gave her a bit of a thrill to hear it, and set her mind further at ease as her instincts finally accepted that Spock's mind wasn't a risk to hers despite the fact that he'd read her thoughts without her quite knowing how he'd done it.

 _What are you doing_? She asked, this time, trying to direct her thoughts purposefully. It was vexing, like pushing on air to try and get her words to him. They weren't something she knew how to grasp, and her mental grip on anything she touched was as clumsy as a newborn child's. She just barely repressed the urge to stamp a foot as though she really _was_ a child, but Spock effortlessly soothed away her worries that Spock would find her inability to do something so small pathetic.

Nyota paused, mind going still for a moment as she finally realized that Spock had been doing something to her mind all along and she was just now grasping it. _I am merely temporarily redirecting your pain_ , Spock assured her, and then the connection between them broke.

When Nyota finally opened her eyes, the worst of the headache cleared away, even though her stomach was still upset, Spock's face was creased in pain. It didn't take her more than a second to piece things together. "You redirected it into yourself?" she hissed vehemently. That wasn't what she wanted- she hadn't planned that he would be taking it back with him into the confines of his own mind.

Spock's expression grew more pained as Nyota spoke into his ear, and she backed off. After another couple of seconds, Spock's expression gradually cleared, until he was once more in full control of himself. If she hadn't know what he'd just done, she'd never have guessed. "I know how to wall off pain in a manner that is far more effective than most humans are able to," he said, and though it should have sounded like an insult of some sort, Nyota just scooted back towards the wall, holding up the blanket invitingly. No use crying over spilt milk, and she wasn't going to pick a fight with him when she knew the kind of pain he was suffering from.

The fine lines at the corners of his eyes relaxed, and Spock crawled in next to her, matching his body up with hers, lines against curves, and Nyota buried her nose against Spock's neck, inhaling the scent of him. His breathing was deep and even, her fingers resting over the gentle thrumming of his heart in his side. "You're definitely giving me lessons," she said finally, for lack of anything better to say.

Spock's deep kiss was unexpected but more than welcome. Any kiss that made her toes curl and her breasts, belly, and thighs tingle like that from being crushed up against Spock's firm body like that was alright in her book. "Thank you," he murmured against her skin. Nyota stole another kiss from him, but didn't ask. If he wanted to tell her, she'd make sure she was there, but she wasn't going to press him, not now, not when the residue of Spock was coloring her every thought like the most wonderful echo, bright and sharp and sweet.

"Why, though?" Nyota couldn't help but ask, finally stopping her kisses to snuggle against Spock. She really was tired, and Spock rarely indulged her like this.

"Because I could not bear to see you in pain when I had the means to stop it," Spock told her, and she was so close to him that she could feel the quiver in his voice that she couldn't hear.

That had sounded rather like _I love you_.

She hadn't thought she'd get to hear it, not even in so many words. Spock was a man of action when it came to emotion, and what he did said more than he ever had to say. She'd known he'd loved her- known she'd loved him, too- but it was rather nice to hear it like this.

Nyota pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone. "I love you too," she said aloud, her heart beating faster with the admission. She'd never voiced the words to him before, not to him, not to any of her previous boyfriends, because she'd been always of the opinion that one shouldn't say it without being absolutely sure that one meant it. And after having Spock ask to step inside her mind simply to aid her, not because the situation demanded it, or because they didn't have a choice...it was as exhilarating as it was frightening. She kept her head down so she couldn't see his expression, and deliberately released her grip on his shirt.

That was alright, though, because Spock grabbed her hand and pressed Human kisses to her fingers. "I know," he said.

Nyota was sure that it wasn't just the shadows in the room that made it seem like Spock was smiling.

~*~

Don't let anyone say otherwise- getting shot _hurts_. It hurts a _lot_. In fact, there was no point when it did _not_ hurt. Admittedly, there had been a split second when she'd stared at the shaft coming out of her upper left arm and had thought, shocked, _there's an arrow in me_ , but frankly, that should had been eclipsed rather quickly by the sheer pain that accompanied have an arrow in oneself.

So she wasn't surprised when she awoke in Medical Bay the first time, groggy and exhausted and unclear as to what was going on, but ultimately alive. After a brief explanation of where she was and how she was faring- an explanation that slipped her mind as soon as it was said- Doctor McCoy had injected a nutrient supplement as well as some pain medications that left her unable to resist the call of a deep sleep, rather than just resting under sedation.

The second time she woke up, it was in the middle of the Med Bay's "night". It was the only area on the ship that really kept to the traditional day-and-night schedules, largely because a consistent sleeping schedule helped patients heal, and it was rather hard to sleep when the lights were on unless one was doped up on too much pain medication to care. As a result, alpha and part of beta shifts had the Med Bay functioning as normal, but midway through beta shifts the lights in the patient area were dimmed and the area partitioned off. That way, if there was an emergency, McCoy and the others could get their patient through the Med Bay and into an operating room without running into walls that they couldn't see, but the patients already present in Med Bay could also rest in peace.

However, just because it was the Med Bay's night, didn't necessarily mean it was anyone else's. In fact, when she finally opened her eyes and shifted, Jim was sitting next to her, looking far too awake for the hour her body was telling her it was. He'd probably been on beta shift, then. Even now, he was scanning through some stuff on his PADD, the glow from his screen painting his face in eerie colors. "You're awake!" he murmured in a low, albeit surprised, voice. He immediately moved to set his PADD down and pick up a cup of water, complete with straw. "Good to see you're up!"

Despite his jovial tone, his eyes were dark and worried. Nyota blinked a few times, waking up slowly but surely. Memories rose to the forefront of her brain- she'd pushed Jim out of the way down on the planet when she'd seen the native poised to fire at him. That explained a lot, actually. As she sipped from the cup, Jim was quick to reassure her that her arm was going to be fine, though it wasn't fully healed yet and she was on bed rest for another day or two at least. Even then, it would be a couple of weeks before she could use her arm as she normally would.

Though Jim didn't _quite_ chide her for saving his life, there was a definite sense that he was unhappy she'd been hurt while defending him. Nyota rather thought he could just shove it, because she'd do it again and would probably do it in the future, and Jim was just going to have to live with the fact that she'd risk her own life to save him.

"Are you in any pain?" he asked finally, after he'd rambled for a good ten minutes. Even in the dim light she could see a hint of pink spreading over his cheekbones. "Sorry, I should have asked earlier-"

"No, no," she hastened to say, raising her good arm in a placating gesture. "Well, I mean, it hurts, but not so badly I can't stand it." When Jim continued to look unsure, Nyota added, "Besides, I'm sure Doctor McCoy will be around soon enough, and he'll probably inject me with all sorts of things that will make my mind go fuzzy in interesting ways. I'm rather liking the clarity of thought, frankly. Or at least, it's as clear as it's going to be while I'm injured." Hmmm. Maybe she was more drugged than she thought, if she couldn't quite get that sentence to make any sort of sense in her head.

"You should rest," Jim reminded her, and stood, clearly intending to leave. "I'm sorry, I should go, I didn't mean to wake you-"

"Sit down," Nyota snapped irritably. "I'm not dying."

Jim's shadowed face and tense muscles practically screamed, " _But you could have!_ " and Nyota wasn't going to have any of that, not now, not ever. She would break him of that habit while she had the opportunity to do so, before he started smothering her and pulling her from away missions. "Sit down," she repeated, "You look more anxious than when my sister Furuha broke my mother's antique vase while teaching Juwyriya how to dance."

That made him pause, at least. "You have a sister?"

"Sis- _ters_ ," Nyota stressed. "Not sister. I'm the second youngest of six children."

That finally got his attention, and slowly, warily, Jim seated himself in the chair he'd pulled up by her bed. Nyota pressed the button that lifted the top portion of the bed so she was sitting up. She didn't have the energy to lift herself, that was for certain. All of her limbs left weak, and she felt the sort of absent queasiness she always felt when she'd spent too long on pain medication. "You have _five_ siblings?" He asked, looking rather aghast. "I only have an older brother, and I frequently had the urge as a kid to hold a pillow over his face until he stopped moving! How did you manage?"

Nyota laughed at that. "It actually wasn't as bad as you might think. Hadhi is eight years older than me, and Furuha seven. Amina and Ishi are twins, and they're five years older, then Juwyriya is two years younger than me. I was still pretty young when Hadhi and Furuha left the house for college, and with those two gone, there was only four of us plus my parents for most of the year, and then Amina and Ishi left not too much later. It was pretty wild, I admit, though." How long had it been since she'd talked, _really_ talked to her family? Certainly not since the _Enterprise_ had headed out, at least, and she immediately resolved to made video recordings for them all as soon as she was out of Medical.

"It's been a while since I've seen them. I mean, I went back home after..." she trailed off, unsure of how to say it, but Jim just nodded, showing that he understood what she meant. "But even then, I only saw Hadhi and Ishi for about a day, and not even together. I mean, it's understandable- Hadhi works on the lunar colony as a terraformer for BioNautics with kids and everything and Ishi's in the middle of her PhD, but still..." she sighed a little. I miss them. I barely know my nieces and nephews- Hadhi and Amina are married, and Ishi's engaged." Nyota sighed, more melancholy this time. "What about you?"

Jim's eyes looked a little wide, as though he'd been put on the spot in an unexpected and not entirely wanted manner. "Well," he hedged, "My brother's name is George Samuel Kirk, but everyone calls him Sam." He shrugged a little. "He's married too- he's wife is Araluen, and they've only been married for about a year."

"I didn't know that," Nyota said honestly.

"He doesn't get mentioned a whole lot." Jim shrugged again. "With the whole Kelvin thing, all the news crews kinda wanted to talk to my mom about me. Sam just sort of...fell through the cracks." He seemed to realize how that sounded, and then added, "Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. Sam's always been on the dreamier side, lost in his research- he does a lot of work with proteomics- but Araluen balances him out. She's very down to Earth. I don't know her very well, but my brother loves her."

Nyota felt her face soften at the estrangement that had spelled itself out between Jim's halting words. "That's good, then," she agreed. Then she added, "And it must have been nice to see your family at the wedding. When Hadhi got married, you couldn't move your arm without hitting someone from my family." Her smile invited Jim in for the joke, but he just looked awkward.

There was a moment where Nyota was sure he was going to shut himself off from her, close away his feelings and thoughts and tell her what he thought she wanted to hear, rather than what she actually wanted to heat- the truth. Nyota waited, patient as always, as he struggled to let himself open up to her, in the dark of the Medical Bay, with nothing but Nyota's voice and the machines around them for company.

"Sam and I don't have any extended family." He said slowly, hesitantly. "And my mom didn't go to the wedding- she wasn't invited. Sam...Sam remembered what it was like when they were both there, and after Dad died, he said she was different." He looked away, mouth curled into something that was supposed to be a smile but was instead a cheap parody. It made Nyota's heart ache. "We're not exactly the poster family for healthy relationships. In fact, we're all about as fucked up as it gets."

Nyota was quiet for a long time, before she finally said, "I'd like to meet them, sometime. Both of them, if you're ever willing. It might not have been the best childhood, but the pair of them must have done something right." She reached out, catching Jim's hand and drawing him forward into a hug. "We're glad you're here, you know that, don't you?" She murmured fervently, squeezing tight even when it made her grit her teeth as her arm protested.

Jim was the first to pull away, eyes bright. Nyota suddenly couldn't even imagine a world where Jim didn't drive her crazy, didn't piss her off on a daily basis, didn't lead the _Enterprise_. She couldn't imagine losing his laughter, or his surprising intelligence, or his wit: a universe where he wasn't that brave, strong, charismatic, honest man that she'd come to love wasn't one worth living in.

Oh.

Well, that explained a lot.

~*~

The worst part about it was that the woman was genuinely conflicted.

She brought Nyota her peoples' version of tea and some traditional sweets to accompany it. She apologized more times in an hour than Nyota had been apologized to in the rest of her life combined, and her expression was a mask of pity that made Nyota's skin crawl.

"I realize your people live by your own customs," Ighali told her, wringing her hands in a way that made Nyota want to strike her, because this was Nyota's _life_ Ighali was planning to ruin. "But I must still obey the laws of my own culture, regardless of the fact that you've come in peace. My people would riot, would overthrow me if I allowed the abomination you've created to continue!"

"Abomination?" Nyota repeated hollowly, because that's what she felt like, like her chest had been opened with a spoon and her blood used to sign a death warrant.

Then again, that was essentially what she was doing.

For the millionth time, Ighali explained, "Here, on my planet, the gender you call 'female'," the word came out rather strangled and thick, a mimicry of the word more than anything else, "can only have one consort. You claimed two- I'm sorry, but that _cannot_ be permitted! One of them _must_ be killed for daring to claim the title 'consort'!"

That was the crux of it, unfortunately. When they'd originally realized that they planet was almost entirely run by their species version of female, which Nyota looked at least superficially like in most aspects, there had been a general consensus that Nyota would take the lead on this mission until they were successful in establishing something more than preliminary relations with one another. No one had any qualms about it, especially because Nyota was excellent at diplomacy.

However, Starfleet had all but demanded that she find a way to bring either Spock or Jim- preferably both- in on the proceedings, as it was on the First Officer and Captain of any ship that had the ability to ratify even the most tentative of negotiations or treaties. It was simply the _Enterprise's_ bad luck that both of them were male.

Nyota had found out that every female could, if she wished to, name a consort, the only male of her acquaintance that could bear her children and be given the same rights as a woman. Furthermore, when she'd investigated the phenomenon, she'd been told that any female could nominate any male for a consort, so long as the appropriate documentation was arranged and processed by a representative of the government. It had been almost too easy to get a temporary free pass, as it were, as an off-worlder, especially considering the Ghalelli had only started exploring space with warp capabilities twenty years ago.

Where she'd gone wrong, however, was in naming both Jim and Spock as her consorts.

And it was _such_ as stupid mistake on her part, could have been so easily rectified if she'd just thought it through- but no, there was no time to be going over that, not when every second counted against her. The fact was, she'd assumed that because Ighali and her daughters had multiple consorts that it was the appropriate, approved thing for _everyone_ to have them. She hadn't realized her mistake until she revealed that she wasn't the ruler of the Federation, as they had assumed. She didn't have the _right_ to two consorts- only the ruler of the Federation and Ighali and her daughters had that right; it was a show of power and wealth that no one but the royal family was permitted.

The uproar in the meeting hall when her so-called deception had been revealed still had her eardrums bleeding, and she'd feared for both her life and the lives of those that had accompanied her until Ighali had stepped in, soothing raw nerves and quieting the shouts. Then she'd made a suggestion, that surely this had to be a mistake, that one of them was claiming the role falsely. The liar would be put to the death, as was custom, and the negotiations could continue.

Then, under the guise of explaining the rules to the newcomer, Nyota had been led off and told to _choose_ between Jim and Spock as if they were pieces of meat meant for the stewpot.

"Can you give me a day?" Nyota asked finally of Ighali, and her voice was raw, like she'd been screaming. She cleared her throat, and then continued in a more neutral tone, "Of course we will respect your customs. May I have until sunset tomorrow?" That would give her roughly sixteen hours or so. "This is a difficult choice, and I would not wish to make it hastily."

Ighali's face cleared, beaming. "Of course, of course! We would be honored to host you!" She paused for a moment, and then said seriously, "I'm afraid we cannot let you go back to your ship or otherwise contact them, in case you should attack. I hope you understand that until the decision has been made, you must stay with us. I also hope you will respect our wishes and allow a guard to accompany you." Nyota didn't let her face change at all, despite the fact that she'd been planning to do just as Ighali had said and use the _Enterprise_ to threaten the Ghalelli until they gave Jim and Spock back to her.

Nyota nodded, standing, back straight and chin lifted. Her mind was already racing a mile a minute- she'd figure out a way to get everyone out of this alive, or die trying. "I would greatly appreciate it. As for the rest of it, I completely understand. Also, do you have a library on hand? I would be greatly honored by the opportunity to read some of your laws so that I do not make the same mistakes again. Also, as a show of good will, I'll tell you that my communicator is in my bag."

That was even true- or rather, Spock's communicator was in the bag that she'd taken down with them when the Ghalelli had invited them all to stay in the first place. Hers was in her pocket, but from the way they treated men around here, she doubted that they would realize her deception until too late; they wouldn't have given a man such a device, and probably assumed she'd do the same, faux pas with the two consorts aside. It was an oversight she'd seen more than once, especially when the species were newly introduced to one another, and the Ghalelli hadn't known of the Federation's existence for more than a few days.

Apparently, Ighali's smile could get even wider. "I will show you to the library myself!" she practically trilled, relief practically pouring off her body. She nearly stumbled over her own feet as she led Nyota out of the room.

"Thank you," Nyota purred, and Ighali didn't seem put off by the fact that she was showing far too many teeth.

 _The problem_ , Nyota thought wryly, hours later, when the lack of sleep was starting to make her eyes burn, _is that the_ Enterprise _needs to get better communicators. If I had been able to just ask Scotty to beam us up, we'd would have gotten away hours ago with our skins intact, though our relations with the Ghalelli would have been rather worse for the wear. Instead, we're still hours away from our check-in time, and we've only got my knives as weaponry._ Her attempt at humor, even if she was the only one around, fell rather flat.

The first thing she'd tried when she had been left alone in the library was her communicator, hoping to reach the _Enterprise_ in order to send the command for them to beam out, but she hadn't been able to get the signal to pass through the thick stone around her, and since she wasn't permitted outside the castle she hadn't been able to get more than an intermittent signal. Though Ighali had informed her of it when they met privately, a more official declaration of her need to remain in the castle under their watchful eyes until, "the issue had been resolved".

It had been a demand of Ighali's nobles; Nyota was just glad that she'd had been just able to talk them out of handcuffing her to the table- apparently Ighali hadn't been as good at soothing away their worries as Nyota had hoped. Her communicator was now sending the emergency signal at all wavelengths even as it was safely hidden in her pocket, and she was hoping that if she got close enough to a window, at least, they'd be able to pick up the signal. She'd even managed to boost it a bit, though the technology of communicators wasn't her expertise.

However, it was nearing on ten hours, and she'd gotten no response, just a repetitive static that grated on her nerves. Moroseness crept back into her system, and she decided that she could use a quick break to get some energy back. She'd been working to find a law or some sort of precedence that would save both her Captain and First Officer's lives, but thus far she hadn't even had a hint of success despite hours of searching. She couldn't give up, wouldn't _dream_ of it, despite the crushing guilt over her mistake, but perhaps a short break would make her see something that she hadn't before.

She walked through the library for a few moments, hoping to restore some circulation to her limbs, which were cramped after hours in a chair that wasn't quite comfortable enough for a Human to sit it, built as it was for the Ghalelli physiologies. Panic- the low, dull, throbbing kind that creeps up slowly- was beginning to seep into her veins as every possible bad ending played through her mind each time she shut her eyes. If she didn't find an answer to her problem soon, Jim or Spock was going to be hauled to their deaths.

She couldn't let that happen.

She _wouldn't_ let that happen.

When the brief walk around the library wasn't enough to make her settle, she continued to pace absently as she plotted further. Both of her knives- one in her boot, one strapped to her inner thigh- hadn't been discovered, since they'd been on her person when they'd searched through her room for any paraphernalia that could be used against them. It had been a risk, taking them down to the planet in the first place, but Jim had known that when they'd beamed down that there had been the very real risk that she would be separated from the rest of the group, and Jim ultimately hadn't been able to send her off on her own in good conscience without any means to defend herself. They were her only armaments, however, as they hadn't dared to risk a phaser or any other bulkier weapon that might have drawn attention.

Even so, it didn't take more than a heartbeat to decide what to do with them.

Though she hadn't been given free reign of the entire castle, as it seemed no one but Ighali trusted her not to slit their throats in their sleep, she did manage to convince her escort to take her down to the dungeons. To be fair, she probably would have killed Ighali's royal court if she thought she could get away with it, but with an armed guard at her side, it wasn't exactly feasible.

It didn't matter, anyways- it was painfully easy to stalk down to the dungeon and demand to see Jim and Spock as though they were wares she wanted to inspect for value, and a part of her was disheartened at how easily the guards bowed to her wishes. She had to give them some credit: they checked with Ighali first, making sure that this was acceptable, and when Nyota had claimed, in a bored tone, that she wished to know which suited her better, Ighali had been more than willing to agree. _How are you so stupid_? Nyota wanted to ask. _How are you so blind_? Then again, that eager-to-please nature was working entirely to her advantage, and she wasn't enough of a saint not to take advantage of it, not when lives were at risk.

With their leader's confirmation, they were more than willing to let her through. Though they checked her for weapons in a cursory fashion- she was a foreigner, after all- it didn't seem to occur to them to check her boots or her inner thigh for weaponry.

In a way, it all made sense, this leniency, the way Ighali was practically falling over herself to make sure negotiations went smoothly. She could understand it, even. The Ghalelli were all new to space, new to warp technology and their space explorations were barely in their infancy. To have finally met another people, to know that there was an entire universe of being out there- it was intimidating, and any leader worth their salt would know that their people would be defined by the decisions that were made in a span of a day or two. Nyota knew that the news networks were probably going _crazy_ right now, with satellite images of the _Enterprise_ being spread everywhere, speculation rampant.

She didn't care about that though. She just wanted Jim and Spock back, and if it made these people view her as a villain, then she'd do it again and more if it meant they went free after this.

When she was finally permitted inside to 'inspect her wares'- and the phrase made bile rise in her throat- she could see the shock glimmering in Spock's dark eyes. But she had a performance to sell, so she just gazed at him for a while the guards stayed respectfully back. Spock remained silent too, waiting for her cues. He'd always been good like that, good at reading her every move. He kept himself still as she approached him, eyes flickering constantly to the guards as though trying to figure out what the rules were before he started playing the game, because a wrong move here ended in death.

His skin was smooth and warm against her finger when she used it to tilt his head from side to side. She ran her hands over firm abs and lean thighs, going so far as to pull off his shoe, using the movement to hide the fact that she'd taken the knife she palmed earlier and was slipping it into his boot. His eyes widened the tiniest amount when she slipped it back on; of course he could feel the imprint of the knife. She expected no less of him. When she stood in front of him, however, Spock mouthed quickly, "Choose the Captain," eyes earnest as though she might actually listen to him.

She didn't respond, because she was going to get them _both_ out, damn it, and she wasn't going to even entertain the notion that she might have to make that kind of decision. She'd learned all about doing the impossible from Jim, after all.

She kissed him deeply, then, slow and dirty, a show for these beings that were gazing at Spock's figure with no small amount of admiration. Then, too quietly for the guards to hear, she murmured, "No," against his lips. If he were anyone else, he'd have looked shocked, but Nyota knew the subtle signs of it well enough anyways. She kissed him again to keep him from saying anything stupidly heroic.

When she finally turned back to the guards, both were wearing contemplative expressions. If he wasn't at risk to be killed, she would have bet she'd have gotten more than one offer to take him off her hands, even temporarily; as female guards, a strong male consort probably appealed to their sensibilities. Nyota ignored those looks, because she knew Spock was strong enough to take down anyone who came near him with less than honorable intentions- they'd been stupid enough to leave his legs unrestrained, after all, and anyone who tried it would deserve the kick they'd get.

She glared at them anyways and then sashayed off, putting herself in control of the situation by acting like she deserved to be the one calling the shots. The guards snapped to attention, already in awe. It seemed that, as she thought, her status as female alien was enough to place her in a position of power. She didn't look back as she walked to Jim's cell, however, because that would be a sign of weakness.

Besides, she trusted that Spock would put that knife to good use.

Jim was a little less accustomed to letting her call the shots, at taking her direction, but he did an admirable job. He wasn't stupid, after all, and he knew what was at stake. Nyota treated him much the same as she had Spock, treating him like an animal to be examined, face aloof. As before, she slipped the second knife she'd palmed into Jim's boot after examining his leg and foot.

Jim's mouth had twitched with good humor, but he'd sobered quickly. "You've got to choose Spock," he whispered in an undertone, face serious. "It's okay, I understand. It's turned out much better than I thought it would-"

Her kiss shut him up quite well.

Nyota told herself that it was mostly because it would have been odd to kiss Spock and then not kiss Jim, despite how awkward it would be if they all survived.

 _When_ they all survived.

The rest of Nyota remained unconvinced by her so-called motive, and knew perfectly well that she'd kissed him just to make sure that she knew what it was like to kiss Jim before she enacted whatever crazy scheme she'd probably come up with an hour before the deadline.

"For good luck?" Jim teased, though his eyes were still sad. He genuinely expected her to choose Spock over him.

"If I'm going to get things to work out, a little of your particular brand of luck is probably a good idea," Nyota muttered, lips brushing Jim's as she spoke. Then she pulled back, donning that frigid mask again, as if she wasn't terrified this was the last time she'd ever see the pair of them.

She walked on anyways, mostly because she had too.

The sound of the library door shutting behind her was like a death knell. She returned to the book, leafing through page after page, focusing on the consort laws. Since they were written as they were thought up, following no discernable pattern, she had to comb through the index of every single book on law that was available, and then she had to actually work through the complex, stilted language the Ghalelli used when writing formal documents in order to try and piece together whether or not it was going to be useful to her.

She was at the point that she was just marking laws that might even have _some_ application as the sun starting crawling towards the horizon. She'd burned the midnight oil and then some, and she craved a cup of coffee as though it was her lifeblood. Her hands were shaking as she closed the final volume of law books that were available in the library, and she had to attempt to pick up the papers with her notes three times before she was successful.

Nyota knew it was important to make good first impressions, but she barely had the time to wash and throw on new clothing before she was rushing off to meet the court that Ighali had assembled to hear her decision.

She supposed that the meeting hall was supposed to intimidate her, with its elegantly carved walls and paintings, with the exquisite attention to detail and beauty. It seemed that gold was a precious commodity here, as it was on so many other worlds, if its abundance in the room was anything to go by.

Nyota couldn't muster the energy to care, however. She only had eyes for Ighali and her court of women. She _did_ notice that every single one of them was expertly coiffed, including their ruler. She supposed it was intended to intimate her in the same way the grandiose room was suppose to inspire awe, but she kept her back straight, meeting everyone's eyes squarely even if she was forced to stand before them and look up at them. Ighali introduced everyone who was present with perfect cordiality, as though there was nothing amiss, and Nyota gave her acting skills a little more credit.

It was easy enough to figure out who liked and disliked her- Teghali and Mivaghali in particular sent her vicious looks that made the hair on the back of her neck rise. They could be dangerous, if she lets them be, but her concern wasn't for the way they politely greeted her while mocking her subtly in the same breath. Instead her worry was for Jim and Spock and what might become of them if she wasn't able to fix things. Her pride could take the beating while they could not- not long term, at any rate. Nyota returned the compliments- or lack thereof- in kind to prove that she was not going to be pushed over easily.

"Have you made your decision?" Ighali asked. Her voice was eager, like this was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to be dealt with and then brushed under the carpet.

"I ask the Devi Ghali," she said, hoping that the universal translator was working properly. There were probably worse times for it to fail, but not by much.

When Ighali's eyes widened, and she said in a formal tone, "Devi Ghali answers you."

"If a Ghalelli chooses, she may transfer the rights of consort to another Ghalelli, assuming that Ghalelli accepts the burdens and rights that come with such a transfer, until such a time said consort either perishes, is passed along, or has their status revoked by such means as detailed in 14.9c of book nine of the Concords and Laws. Should that Ghalelli accept the transfer, she is responsible for all of the consorts needs, and the Ghalelli accepts that the consort is beyond her touch, as all consorts cannot be touched by another, unless the consort is returned to her. Such a transfer of title does not affect the status of any remaining consorts, if there are any, and but does lower the status of that Ghalelli who transfers the consort unless the transfer is in fact an exchange," Nyota read word for word. She could have delivered it with more panache if she'd had the time to practice it, but she hadn't had the opportunity.

She met the eye of everyone of the court, one after another, letting her expression and the words still ringing in the air to speak for her. "This is only one of several laws dictating what can be done with the ownership of a consort." The words left a bad taste in her mouth, because the memory of those who lived in the United States of Africa was long.

"And?" Xighali asked, looking bored. She had been indifferent earlier, and Nyota pressed the opportunity to win her, and hopefully some of the others.

"Allow me to transfer one my consorts," she suggested, then took a deep breath and neatly stabbed her pride. "Though those men are my consorts on my world, I did you disrespect by claiming them both. I ask for a compromise; if my consort can be transferred to another in the eyes of the law, might we not reach an accommodation?"

Ighali looked delighted at the suggestion, but like Nyota, she glanced around to get the feeling of the others in the room; though Ighali was ultimately the one who would make the decision as to what would happen, she couldn't alienate her entire court at the same time. Xighali, at least, looked interested, as did Sralghali and Oghali, who had previous looked indifferent. Kiraghali nodded, and glanced significantly at several other woman from behind her...well, Nyota thought it was a fan, but she couldn't even begin to discern the materials or how it had been made.

Teghali and Mivaghali remained unconvinced, as did Dirannoghali. "You have already insulted us," Mivaghali said peevishly, tossing the deep blue tendrils of hair back over her shoulder. "Why should we allow more demands when you do not respect what it means to have even a single consort?"

"If I did not respect the ideas embodied by consort, would I have named them both so?" Nyota asked, adopting a guise of innocence. "True, our customs differ from yours, but my responsibilities are no different from yours, Imi Ghali. And I will be bold, Devi Ghali," Nyota added, now addressing Ighali, "Others will come to this planet of yours, and will not adopt your customs because they hold different beliefs that conflict with yours. In the Federation of which we are part, though all cultures are respected, some will find your customs barbaric," _as I do,_ "and you will need to show that you are open."

Ighali and Xighali looked like they agreed, as did Kiraghali. She could see it in their faces, they way they viewed her as something strange but not entirely unwelcome. She hoped that sometime they'd be able to gaze with the same equanimity at a wholly foreign race, a wholly foreign people who had four different genders and were seven feet tall with no discernable way to differentiate between those four genders, as the Opher'anilis' were.

Teghali and Mivaghali still looked irritated, which didn't surprise Nyota. Teghali looked thoughtful then, and with a wicked smile, she asked, "Would you transfer your consort to one of us. Me...perhaps?" It was a dangerous question, and everyone in the room knew it.

"Unfortunately," _As if_ , Nyota mentally added before continuing, "the Federation requires both of those men where they are. I would be willing to file the paperwork for a transfer to a fellow crewmember on the _Enterprise_ , and those boundaries would be respected if we returned. If someone were to attempt to take them by force, the Federation wouldn't take kindly to it," she added in a light tone, as though it were an afterthought, but she knew the kind of woman Teghali was, and she wasn't going to let her sink her claws into either Jim or Spock through backhanded means.

She wasn't going to let anyone here believe that she was anything less than deadly serious, so she smiled, innocuous and sweet. "And I would hate to ruin relations." Her eyes flickered to the ceiling, and the smile got sweeter. Teghali blanched a little, as she remembered just who was in orbit around the planet and what they could do to her if vexed.

"Yes, we wouldn't want our negotiations any more taxed than they are," Ighali agreed blandly, and Nyota's estimation of her rose a little further, and she began to second guess the bumbling woman that had apologized to her so frantically not even twenty-four hours ago.

Feeling sure that she'd just been used to one-up Teghali in some fashion, and thoroughly furious about it, she nonetheless managed a less feral smile for the ruler. "Of course not," she agreed, because that was what everyone expected her to say, not, 'Fuck you, bitch.' Or at least, they expected her not to say it while there were witnesses.

Ighali rose gracefully, and her smile was serene even as her eyes hardened and began to glitter with victory. "Well, my Imi Ghalisi, it seems that we have no choice," she said in a quiet voice, as though this was something different from what she'd desired. She turned to Nyota, and did something clearly symbolic with her hands; Nyota assumed it was something like a bow or a curtsy. "I will have your consorts brought out to the main courtyard that you beamed down to." The words 'beamed down' were stilted, since the Ghalelli didn't yet know transporter technology very well. "I will allow you to confer with your people, and choose the one you wish to transfer a consort to."

Nyota's limbs started to shake, so she forced her muscles to lock. She needed to at least get out of the room without breaking down. "Thank you," she said, without attempting the same gesture Ighali had directed at her. There was no need for her to embarrass herself, especially since she probably needed an extra joint to successfully make that move happen.

The next fifteen minutes or so passed in a blur as she waited for Spock and Jim to be brought up to her.

When she finally saw them emerge into the deep orange light the sun cast over everything, she nearly wept, relief constricting her heart. Nyota just smiled instead, broad and too desperate, perhaps, but they were all in one piece, and that was good enough for her.

Or at least, it would have been, if Mivaghali hadn't broken down.

Ighali was giving her compliments, to be passed on to the Federation proper, when Nyota saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

Mivaghali, face crumpled with rage, screamed, "I will do what you cannot, Ighali!" and came at Spock with a knife that she'd had hidden away. As fast as Spock was, Mivaghali was faster, and she was aiming for Spock's lung at the very least.

Jim came out of nowhere, striking Mivaghali's feet from under her, knee coming up to hit the middle of her diaphragm. When Mivaghali dropped like a stone, Jim pulled his knife and rested it against her jugular, or whatever the Ghalelli equivalent was. From the way Mivaghali went still, it was at least as dangerous as placing a knife against a Human throat. "You will _not_ touch him, will not touch _either_ of them," he hissed, and the entire courtyard went dead quiet.

"Jim," Nyota and Spock said at the same time, both of their voices harsh.

Jim's face was turned away from them, but he stood, pulling the sheath of the knife from his boot and slipping the weapon inside. "We will discuss this aboard my ship," Jim said dangerously, and his eyes were chips of blue topaz. "We have tried to be understanding of your culture, though it put both my life and the life of my people in danger. I won't allow this to happen again."

Ighali stammered, "B-but-"

Jim's expression _dared_ her to continue that phrase when he held out his hand to Nyota without looking away from Ighali, who was beginning to look desperate for some what to fix what had happened. "Communicator," he said shortly.

Nyota handed hers over without comment. "Scotty, beam us up, now," Jim commanded.

" _Right away, Captain_ ," Scotty's voice was even, as though the demand wasn't anything to get ruffled over. Then again, Scotty had always been one to take things in stride, except when it had to do with his precious ship.

The last glimpse Nyota got of the planet was Ighali's face, ashy white even as her eyes grew cold and calculating. Nyota ignored it; as long as she couldn't touch Jim or Spock, Nyota would be content to watch this entire cesspool go to hell.

For a minute, however, just as all her molecules broke apart, she thought she felt two sets of hands gripping her own.


	6. Act II scene iii

_To: Nyota Uhura nuhura_ @ _enterprise.ncc1701.starfleet.org_  
 _From: Sch'n T'gai Spock stspock_ @ _enterprise.ncc1701.starfleet.org_  
 _Message Date: 2259.01.09 19:22_

_Due to the fact that I must oversee an experiment, I will be unable to join you for dinner tonight._

_Spock_

The content of the message itself wasn't particularly unusual. More than once one or the other of them got caught up in their research and had to reschedule a dinner or date. However, they always tried to give a couple of date options or at least an apology or a full explanation of what they were doing. It was a way of reminding the other person that they regretted the necessity of breaking the date, or genuinely wanted to make amends for disrupted their plans.

However, the blunt way Spock had phrased it was the final straw.

In the past three weeks, Spock had broken almost every meal or date they'd planned, and the reasons for doing it were becoming increasingly transparent. Nyota had genuinely wanted to believe that it was simply because he was busy, but it was more than that- it was the way that he hadn't come to spend the night in her room for almost a month, hadn't done more than kiss her, and chastely at that. He didn't touch her, didn't confide in her, and though he'd tried so hard to hide his discomfort from her, there was only so much he could do before she cottoned on to what he was doing.

Nyota hadn't wanted to believe, but Spock was pulling away from her.

It made her nauseous just thinking about it. She'd wanted to give him his space- after all, the one year anniversary of the destruction of Vulcan was just around the corner, so she could sympathize with his desire for privacy. It was something he wasn't going to get during the event itself, when everyone and their second cousin would be staring at him like he belonged in a zoo, to be gazed at and dissected. He would be expected to put on a good face and join the mourning and celebrate the fact that Earth had survived while his home had not. In fact, the _Enterprise_ was headed back to Earth even now in order to arrive in time for the ceremony that would be conducted in a week and a half. It was understandable that Spock was on edge, especially with the death of his mother the proverbial elephant in the room that no one knew how to address.

But Nyota couldn't let him do this to himself, to torture himself with what-ifs, with what-might-have-beens, with maybes and doubts and if-onlys. She wanted to be there for him, to be his support system, but he'd all but ignored her. It might have been better if he'd ignored, actually, because being told that he was not in emotional distress and that she should concentrate on her duties when he so clearly _was_ in _agony_ had been a wholly unpleasant shock.

She'd genuinely believed that Spock trusted her more than that.

Nyota let the PADD fall to the bed, covering her face with her hands. Her shoulder shook a couple of times, and then she inhaled sharply, composing herself. She blinked back the rest of her tears, even though it made the lump in her throat seem twice as large. When she had her emotions under control, she struggled to think of what to do.

What she _wanted_ to do was go barreling down to the science labs and drag him out by one pointed ear if she had to, and berate him to within an inch of his life as though he was a spoiled child in need of a good scolding. What she _wanted_ to do was find a way to make him understand that she could be relied on. What she _wanted_ to do was to fuck him until the only thing he could say was her name- or please, or more, that would work too.

However, none of that would be of any help whatsoever, and would only alienate Spock further.

Feeling rather defeated, she stretched on her bed, PADD in hand and typed back,

 _To: Sch'n T'gai Spock stspock_ @ _enterprise.ncc1701.starfleet.org_  
 _From: Nyota Uhura nuhura_ @ _enterprise.ncc1701.starfleet.org_  
 _Message Date: 2259.01.09 19:39_

_That's fine. Will I see you tonight?_

_Nyota_

Her fingers hesitated over the send button for a long moment before she actually managed to hit it. Nyota didn't want to sound too forceful or too intimidated.

 _To: Nyota Uhura nuhura_ @ _enterprise.ncc1701.starfleet.org_  
 _From: Sch'n T'gai Spock stspock_ @ _enterprise.ncc1701.starfleet.org_  
 _Message Date: 2259.01.09 20:15_

 _I do not believe so. I hope you have an adequate rest nevertheless_.

_Spock_

_As if I could without you,_ Nyota thought fiercely. Though the sleeping together most nights had only been a relatively recent habit, she'd gotten used to the feeling of drifting to sleep with the skin of another person against her own.

She let three more days pass, unsure what to do, lost in her own thoughts, morose. Even Sulu had thought to ask if she was alright; though she had long since become friends with most of the bridge crew, some were more observant than others, and Sulu wasn't the quickest of the lot. If he knew, it was a good bet that everyone had noticed her less than confident air.

The new distance between herself and Spock made their interactions on the bridge awkward; she'd decided that if Spock was just going to bail last minute for all of their plans, she wasn't going to make them. If he wanted to do something with her, he could make them.

It didn't make her feel any better, however.

She'd resigned herself to a cold bed and an absent lover, but she still followed his every move when they were in the same room together, transfixed by his hands and his subtle expressions as much as by what he said.

At least she wasn't the only one he was shutting down; Chekov turned pale and stuttered alarmingly in Spock's presence these days, and McCoy was more acerbic than ever.

In fact, the only one that still showed and sign of being able to get under Spock's skin was-

 _Jim_.

~*~

Things between them had been...awkward, since the kiss when Jim had been stuck in the Galelli jail.

They'd silently come to a 'what happened on the planet stays on the planet' policy, but that didn't smooth their relationship.

Nyota, at least, was too aware of the fact that she knew exactly how pliant his lips were and how quick he had been to fit his mouth against hers. It was hard to hang out with him during the weekly movie night on the _Enterprise_ , for instance, because when she sat next to him she couldn't help but remember what it had felt like to press her body against his. She caught herself staring at the way his face crinkled when he smile, caught herself laughing simply because Jim was laughing, because he was _happy_.

So she was in love with him.

Fine.

It didn't mean she had to act on it.

She would have brought it up if Spock was Human, maybe, or really a part of _any_ species that wasn't so wholly monogamous. The idea of it didn't concern his; as her parents had told her from a young age, "You love who you love, no more, no less". Perhaps it had been a result of their own marriage, which had been strongly objected to, that had allowed them to be so wonderfully open when it came to the lives of their daughters. Either way, when Nyota brought home girls it had been no different than bringing home boys, and she didn't see being with Spock _and_ Jim as any different than balancing relationships when she'd been young and impressionable and loathed the idea of being tied down to a single person except for the fact that Spock and Jim would be together too. However, as far as she had been able to glean, it was a "one bond, two people" affair with Vulcans, no more and no less.

Since that was the case, she wouldn't bring Jim into it- he deserved nothing less than everything that his partner could give to him. Furthermore, she didn't want to put that kind of choice between Spock- having to choose to bond to one of them, cutting the other out of something that was essential to his well being. Then again, that was getting ahead of herself: she was assuming that Spock and Jim would want to be together in the first place, that Jim wanted to be with her, too, that they could somehow make this all work.

Of course, the looks Jim gave Spock on occasion weren't exactly subtle for all Spock seemed oblivious.

Nyota shook her head, running her hands through her hair. One step at a time. For now, it would have to be enough that Jim might be able to get through to Spock where she could not. It would have to be enough, because she didn't dare ask for any more.

So, swallowing, she rang Jim's door when the _Enterprise_ was still four days out from Earth.

When Jim opened the door, greeting Nyota cheerfully, she met his eyes and told him squarely, "You need to help Spock."

Jim's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and then he closed his eyes, pain flitting over his face for a moment. Then he opened them and returned her steady gaze, asking, "What do you need me to do?"

~*~

Nyota knew before she went to get Jim that Spock was in his room. He'd taken a double shift that day, which meant that even he would be tired and planning on getting some sleep that evening.

With no small amount of trepidation, Nyota led the way to Spock's room which sat directly adjacent to Jim's own quarters, shoulders going back and chin lifting as she schooled her expression. She had found that Jim had shared her observations and fears and was more than willing to help. Now she just had to convince Spock it was logical to hear them out before she let Jim speak. If she could make it seem like what Jim was going to say was reasonable, Spock might be more inclined to give the appropriate weight to Jim's words. It might make him listen to Jim when he wouldn't to her.

Nyota concentrated on her breathing as she waiting for Spock to answer the door once she'd rung the chime.

The door slid open, revealing Spock still in his uniform and looking as fresh-faced as though he was planning on starting his shift in a few minutes instead of having just finished working a double shift.

"Nyota, Captain," Spock said in greeting. He didn't look like he knew what they were there for, but Nyota wasn't entirely sure she could tell anymore: his face was perfectly neutral, perfectly controlled.

Perfectly Vulcan.

Nyota suddenly had a very, very bad feeling about things.

Jim slipped forward, effortlessly, sliding past both Nyota and Spock as he said, "We just wanted to talk to you for a couple of minutes, Spock. We'll be out of your hair soon enough."

Spock raised an eyebrow as Jim seated himself comfortably on the small couch, crossing one leg over the other, then turned that gaze on Nyota. He then took a step back, opening the entryway to Nyota as well. Nyota perched nervously on the edge of the couch, knocking her heel back nervously against the side of the couch as Spock stood a little apart from them, back ramrod straight and hands linked behind his back.

"What can I help you with?" he asked.

"We're worried about you, Spock," Nyota said quickly before Jim could speak. It was better that she soften the blow that Jim was sure to land, assuming she could. "You've been withdrawn and distant lately-"

"And stiff, too," Jim added helpfully.

Nyota glared at him for an instant and then returned her gaze to Spock, agreeing reluctantly, "That too. You know that we're here to listen." She silently begged him to meet her eyes with the trace of Spock, the real Spock, _her_ Spock, who had laughter in his eyes even as he kept his face and body language perfectly composed.

"Have I been remiss in any of my duties?" Spock asked seriously, as if that _mattered_.

Jim made out a little frustrated sound. "No, of course not. I don't think I've _ever_ seen you perform anything less than what you were tasked with," he said, a little irritated. "We're not here as your colleagues- I'm not here as your Captain. We're here as your friends, well, friend and girlfriend." Jim winced a little at the awkward phrasing, and absurdly, Nyota found herself wishing she could afford to laugh at the awkwardness with which he'd said girlfriend. To be fair, that wasn't the term she used when describing their relationship in her head either. They were just...together.

Spock looked like he wanted to be amused by Jim's exquisite awkwardness for a moment, and the he conceals it again, hiding it like it never existed, and Nyota felt her heart plummet.

"If my personal life is not interfering with my duties-"

"Will you just stop about your _duties_ -" Jim's voice turned the word into a nasty slur, and he made a face like it left a bad taste in him mouth, "That's not the problem here. Look, I'm not going to make up some bullshit like I know what you're going through. But Spock, we were _there_." His voice was ragged and raw and he had to spend a precious moment getting his face under control. "It was..." he shook his head, throat working and no words escaping.

"Please, Spock," Nyota coaxed. She very carefully doesn't look at Jim, partly because she wanted to give him a moment and partly because the memories are too close to the surface as well. "Just talk to us, let us know what you're thinking, what you're feeling-"

She realized her mistake as soon as she said it.

Spock drew himself up, and Nyota had been wrong. Apparently he _could_ wedge that stick a little further up his ass.

"Don't even start," Jim broke in, genuine anger starting to build in his open face. "Don't you _dare_ hold that against her. I don't care if you don't like the idea that you might have an emotional bone in your body, I don't care if you've been raised since you were born to believe that all emotions are evil and are going to..." he waved his arms ineffectually, " _blow up the moon_ , or something equally _ridiculous_ one day."

Spock ignored him, and instead spoke over Jim to say to Nyota, "I regret to inform you-"

"You don't _get_ to regret to inform me _anything_ ," Nyota snarled, standing up, cutting Spock off with a decisive wave of her hand. "We're either in this as equals, or we're not in this at all. If you can't trust me with your feelings, with the fact that your mother is _dead_ -" and she was only a little ashamed of using that as a weapon. Mostly she thought it was the only way to get through to him. "- then maybe we shouldn't be together. I've got to know that you trust me with the things that matter, and if I can't do that..." she lost a little of her steam, but continued to meet Spock's gaze. This selective blindness of his was going to get him killed one day, if he wasn't careful.

"Is that an ultimatum?" Spock asked, dangerously quiet.

"No, Nyota, think about what you're saying," Jim said before Nyota spoke, holding up his hands, placating. "I think if you take a step back and cool off, you'll rethink what you're saying. _Both_ of you," he added meaningfully, making sure Spock knew full well he was included in that gaze.

"I'm tired of always being the one that has to wait and listen and be patient," Nyota snapped. "This is a legitimate question! If he doesn't want to share his feeling with me, if he doesn't want to acknowledge he might even have them, fine. I'm just not going to be any part of it. You're not _all_ Vulcan," she finished, directing the last comment towards Spock.

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Don't get snippy with me. I'm just trying to play mediator- ever heard of 'don't shoot the messenger'?. _You_ were the one that asked me in here in the first place, because you couldn't ask him yourself!"

The words hurt more than Nyota was willing to admit, and her anger which had been so carefully nurtured was glad for another target. "Oh, yes, because arguing with Spock until he responds is a _phenomenal_ way of handling a relationship. Well done, you," she added with a voice full of biting sarcasm. "Really, you ought to be proud of yourself."

Jim threw up his arms, incredulous. "I can't do anything right by you, can I? Why should I even bother?"

Nyota immediately felt bad, but before she could do anything, Spock continued seamlessly off of Jim's words. She'd seen them do this before during diplomatic relations, playing effortlessly against one another- but she wasn't a potentially dangerous planet. She was _supposed_ to be on their side. With deadly softness, Spock spoke.

"And me? You remind me that I am partly Human- but never that I am partly Vulcan." That mask broke a little bit, and his voice was genuinely anguished as he asked, "Is the Human part of me the only think that attracts you?"

"No. _No_ ," Nyota breathed. "Spock, that's not- I didn't..." she looked to Jim for help, for support, but Jim's gaze was focused on Spock, as affected by Spock's words as Nyota was.

Nyota backed away, anger dropping away and leaving nothing but a twisted bitterness and guilt and a dull throbbing pain. "I see," she murmured, staring at the floor. Three tears splattered against the tops of her black boots. _How has this spiraled so out of control_? She drew in a ragged breath. "I'll go, then."

"Nyota-" they spoke in unison, expressions as pained and guilty as her own, but she had _some_ pride still left.

So she stood straight, nodded to them both, and left, acting as if the tears coursing down her cheeks belonged there.

~*~

_Fade to black_


	7. Act III scene i

_Act III_

_The curtain rises._

_When the lights come up, they are focused on the back wall of the theatre; the main stage is still dark. There is a slowly revolving planet in the back. It's blue and brown and green. The Great Wall of China, which was the first landmark that could be seen from space, is no longer the only one. And it's true that some area of the planet are ravaged, the yellow-brown of places where things no longer grow like pockets of disease._

_In other places, however, it's nothing but the most beautiful shades of greens and blues. The redwood forests of California have expanded more than ever and while the waters of Ganges and the Thames may never be truly clean, at least one is be able to dip a toe in an not catch a deadly disease these days._

_It's a start._

_A set piece made from the riveted metal that makes up every room in the_ Enterprise _slides up, flush against the back wall. There is a single, large porthole that catches part of the Earth's slow revolution. At the same time, a bed and furniture slides onstage._

_A figure, too dimly lit to be made out, comes from stage left and crosses to the bed, gets in, and pulls up covers up._

~*~

Nyota wasn't sure how she felt about being someone's mother.

She wasn't, not really, but it was starting to feel like she was. Somehow, the argument between herself, Jim and Spock had devolved into some sort of strange three-way détente between the Communications, Science and Bridge Crew, with everyone picking sides and running interference as they saw fit, as though the argument between the three of them was the business of every other person on the ship.

Nyota was torn between being pleased and honored by the absolute unification the Communications department had shown in rallying behind her, as though there could be no doubt she was in the right, and a little bit unnerved by the interest they were showing in her personal life and her relationship with Spock and Jim specifically.

Then again, this might as well be a soap opera playing out in front of them, so she supposed she couldn't be surprised by their mostly well-meaning obsessiveness.

As they finished the last leg of their journey towards Earth, however, she was mostly grateful for the buffer they'd created between herself and Jim and Spock. Even now, a full week after they'd fought, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to think or say or feel. Everything was tangled up and knotted inside.

As she finished her shift on the bridge, Nyota nodded frostily to Jim just before heading to the turbolift. Rekal and Eliza were arguing about the proper placement of Devian adjectives _again_ , and she needed to go break up their latest fight before Rekal tried to turn it into a match to the death.

Again.

Nyota pressed the button to call the turbolift. "Nyota, can I talk to you?" Jim said from behind her, and she jumped a little, scowling. She should have known she wouldn't be able to avoid him like the plague forever.

"What?" Nyota snapped and then modulated her voice into something both quieter and lower when three-quarters of the bridge turned to stare at her and the Captain. She flushed, grateful that the darkness of her cheeks kept the worst of the color from being seen. "Haven't you already said enough?" Yeah, she was definitely still a little bitter. Furthermore, the bridge was _not_ the place to have this conversation, not when there were far too many interested listening ears cocked in their direction. Not that she could blame them- she hadn't exactly been helping soothe away the tension as she normally would. They really _were_ like younger siblings or children to her sometimes, wanting to know why people were upset and just wanting everyone to get along like they were supposed to.

Whatever Jim might have said, it was lost when the turbolift arrives and a young woman's face cleared upon immediately spotting her superior. Daisy- a name that never failed to make Nyota think of the hippies of the 1960s on Earth- stumbled out, grasping Nyota's arm frantically. She glanced over Nyota's shoulder for a moment at Jim, eyes flickering back and forth before visibly deciding that she wasn't going to ask. Instead, she started pulling Nyota into the turbolift proper.

"Perfect timing," she said by way of greeting. "Maybe you can get those rockheads to listen to reason, because they're at it _again_!" she said, looking equal parts frustrated and amused and irritated. The irritation was odd, since Daisy was almost painfully cheerful at all hours of the day. "They've moved on to Andorian verb conjugation for diplomatic situations, and they're not listening to a word I've said about the matter!" Well, that explained the irritation- Daisy's specialty was the Andorian language, and if Rekal and Eliza were still arguing, it seemed they'd come to the point where they were arguing for the sake of arguing. This couldn't bode well. Nyota was tempted to lock them in a supply closet until they either made up- and made out- or one of them threw the other out of an airlock and ended the issue once and for all. "You've got to sort them out, Lieutenant!"

"Of course!" she agreed, the brief words she'd exchanged with Jim already leaving the forefront of her mind.

And Nyota turned, pressing the button that would shut the turbolift doors, she saw Spock out of the corner of her eye. Like Jim, he was staring at her intently, as though he could read her thoughts from twenty paces away- which Nyota was pretty sure he couldn't. Jim's throat worked for a moment, but he didn't say anything either, and she was left biting her lip as the sliding door cut them all off from each other.

And that was probably some sort of sick metaphor for her life at the moment.

Sighing, she put her anger aside. Lashing out at Daisy- or Rekal and Eliza, for that matter- when they didn't deserve it (alright, Rekal and Eliza deserved it at least a little bit) would mean that she'd done what she'd always promised she wouldn't, and brought her personal issues into her professional life.

Back to the grindstone, it seemed.

~*~

What it came down to, really, was that Nyota was the only one they trusted to sit on the other side of Sarek without causing a diplomatic incident.

So she ended up on the massive stage that Starfleet at erected with Sarek on one side, with Spock and then Jim and Pike to Sarek's left, with Nyota followed by Sulu, Chekov and the remainder of the Bridge crew following. Behind the Bridge were the remaining members of the _Enterprise_ who had survived Nero's attack. Behind them were the beings that had joined the _Enterprise_ since they had set off into the black for a second time. In addition, the High Vulcan Council was alse seated on the stage; Nyota wasn't entirely sure why Sarek wasn't joining them, but she was hardly going to question Sarek, of all people. He was a political powerhouse the likes of which hadn't been seen in hundreds of years. Between his own renowned diplomatic skills and his new status as part of an endangered species, no one was willing to deny him anything.

Least of all the privilege of sitting next to his son and the other beings responsible for doing what they could to save Vulcan and its people, even if the effort had been largely in vain.

Nyota tore her gaze away from Sarek's commanding presence as he spoke, though she wasn't entirely sure how she managed it, and turned her gaze forward, eyes drifting over the audience as she tried to center herself and keep from sobbing like a child at the subtle emotion that bled into Sarek's voice.

The ceremony was being held out in the open air. They'd spent their day out in the hot sun for the most part, listening to speech after speech, breaking only for lunch. Everyone needed to say something, until finally the late afternoon sun was the only thing warding off the worst of the chill.

Nyota took a moment to look out over to the people stretched out into the distance starting at the foot of the stage and simply going on longer than Nyota thought they would, vaguely stunned by the show of support, for all this was a political act as much as it was a memorial service. In the audience, at least one representative from every planet in the Federation was present in the audience. There were almost one hundred thousand people sitting, standing, burrowed, floating over, or otherwise a part of the audience.

Nyota wasn't even _speaking_ and she was tongue-tied by stage fright.

She hadn't even thought she knew what stage fright _was_.

The grandness of the open seating area, the subtle elegance of each diplomat or representative's words as they spoke about the future of Vulcan and of the Federation, the solemn air that filled everyone...none of it held a candle to the quiet sorrow shivering in the air. There was a nearly physical tension keeping the audience unnaturally silent, unnaturally still. While Nyota appreciated the respect, as she was sure the Vulcans did, she couldn't help but feel that the silence and stillness made it more obvious who was missing from the crowd, not less. She wanted some energy in the air instead of this bleak depression.

It was a day of remembrance, yes.

But it was also a reminder that the universe hadn't come to a screeching halt.

Even though it might feel like it sometimes.

Few people moved her tears, but those who did had something important, _truly_ important to say. They weren't just going through the motions of it. Or perhaps it was fairer to say that the people who were _truly_ important to her were the ones that moved her to tears. Either way, it couldn't be denied that she had to catch herself time and again as first Pike, then Sarek, and then finally Spock spoke as the day wore on until finally there was only one left to speak: Jim.

Spock conceded his spot at the podium as Jim stood to thunderous applause.

As Spock went to pass him, Jim grabbed him suddenly, sweeping him into a hug. It might have looked calculated- probably did look calculated, to the audience- but Nyota was a mere few feet away and they couldn't hide the truth of their actions from her. Jim's face, which was turned towards her, was creased in anguish until he half-hid it in Spock's shoulder. Furthermore, Spock's hands trembled ever so slightly as they came to rest on Jim's back, pulling Jim's body a little closer to his own, shifting slightly in order to make sure they fit well against each other.

Nyota let her tears spill over her cheeks, the roaring in her ears drowning out the thunderous sounds of approval and joy that came from the audience. She only had eyes for Jim and Spock, the two people she loved most in this universe.

Jim pulled away, tears rolling freely down his cheeks even as he kept his face completely straight, doing a credible imitation of Spock's Vulcan no expression. Spock reluctantly let his arms fall, mouth too tight and eyes too shiny and shoulder too tense.

That was all that could be borne.

Standing, hands outstretched, she walked towards Jim and Spock. She clasped Jim's arm first, hand tight on his bicep as she kissed him on the cheek before pushing Jim towards the podium. Jim's grateful expression to her everything she needed to know. He dipped down for another kiss, then, initiating it this time. When Nyota released Jim, Spock was right there, clasping her hands in his. She pulled him down to meet her, kissing him chastely on the lips, fingers tracing across his at the same time. Spock's forehead came to rest against hers, and they let their breath mingle for a moment, uncaring of the thousands of photos probably being taken of them, of all of them.

Sarek, in quiet differentiation, had moved down into her seat, something like warmth and happiness in his eyes as Nyota and Spock seated themselves once more in the new arrangement, hands still intertwined.

Nyota never actually heard what Jim said. She was too busy adoring the solid warmth of Spock beside her, of realizing how much she had been missing this. And besides, who needed to hear what Jim was saying, when it was like the sun had risen in his face. All that bright charismatic energy drew them all effortlessly into feeling as he felt, and she could feel the energy of everyone present responding to his mood instinctually.

He received thunderous applause as he finished speaking, and this time Spock and Nyota both stood, hand in hand, and led Jim back down to sit with them even as the audience called for him to speak more, begging him to continue, desperate to make him a martyr as much as a hero. They led him back to the chairs, Spock crossing to sit next to his father, leaving Nyota to sit next to him and Jim next to her. Even as Admiral Barrett stood and began the closing ceremony, Nyota, Jim and Spock settled. Jim and Spock crossed their outside hands so they were clutching Nyota's, and leaving their free hands to link behind Nyota's chair, a movement that pressed all their bodies tight against one another.

Right where they belonged.

~*~

It was late in the evening before they finally got free of their obligations to Starfleet and were able to escape the hot press of people and get out into the cool air.

Cool became cold quickly, because mid-May wasn't enough to truly warm up San Francisco beyond daylight hours, and the wind off the ocean carried a particularly strong chill. She stared up into the stars, knowing that the _Enterprise_ was probably on the other side of the world by now, but rather wishing she could go back to it. Things were so much simpler when she was aboard the ship. Nyota knew she might be an expert at hobnobbing with diplomats at these sorts of events, but that didn't mean she _liked_ it. She could have been a diplomatic aid, might have been one in another life, but she couldn't imagine living in the viper's nest that would entail, not after she'd tasted the darkness that existed between stars.

A coat dropped over her shoulders, an extra layer of protection against the cold and still warm from a body.

She smiled and adjusted the coat a little, pulling it more securely around herself. "It took you long enough."

"Hey, if you want to go back in there, go ahead. Be my guest. I won't stop you, though I'll be sure to say something appropriately sweet at your funeral." Jim's rough hands appeared beside hers on the balcony railing. The body heat on her left must be Spock, then.

She looked up at Spock, who was staring off into the distance. Nyota didn't think he was staring at anything in particular, but then again, his eyesight was much better than hers or Jim's. His expression was shadowed, the lights from the main hall keeping his face in darkness. "You're not cold? I would have thought that this weather wouldn't be warm enough for you to stay out in."

"It is not," Spock agreed, and there was a certain offhand manner to the comment. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed his voice, his steadfast presence. "I cannot stay out here indefinitely, but a few moments are alright. In all honestly, I believe we will adjourn to another location shortly so there is no need to worry about the cold unduly."

Jim came up behind Nyota, winding his arms around her, palms flat against her stomach as he leaned his head on her shoulder. She was a touch short for him to be able to do so comfortably, for all she was taller than most women, but Jim's hair was soft against her face, and so long as he was content, she wasn't about to shrug him off. Instead, she stepped back, pressing against Jim and his warmth. Skirts were _not_ meant for this sort of weather, no matter what Starfleet claimed about their newest thermal clothing.

She looked up into Spock's face, searching it for jealously. When she didn't find anything, she searched for discomfort, or confusion, or _something_ in his face that would tell her that he thought ill of this, of how she felt.

She didn't find anything, and a little of her reservations about the situation melted away.

Spock brushed his fingers across her cheeks, her eyes, her lips before finally brushing them across her temples, a brief flare of warmth flooding her mind, equaled only by the heat of Jim at her back. When Spock pulled his hands away, Nyota shivered at the feel of Jim's lips brushing against her neck. Not sucking, not nipping, just there, a little rough and damp and expertly leaving sensitive skin in their wake.

It was nice, actually. She wouldn't want to be caught between them like this all the time, but sometimes it was nice to be cared for by the two people who knew her best.

"We should probably take this elsewhere," Jim murmured, voice low and rough and right in her ear.

Talk about a bucket of cold water. Nyota pulled away from them both, stepping out from between them. She started shivering when the wind started to cut through even Jim's jacket. Her toes were already getting chilled through her boots as well. "Yes. We need to talk."

Jim winced a little. "You could phrase it using something other than the Phrase that Kills All Relationships."

Nyota couldn't help but smile. "Why do I get the idea that you just used capital letters for that term?" She asked, humor lighting up her face.

"Prob'ly cause I did," Jim said, unconcerned. "In my mind, at least. Now, come on, I've got gooseflesh all over me and the sooner we get out of this cold the better."

"We're going to back to my apartment," Spock volunteered, and Nyota relaxed, glad for the reassurance that they were going somewhere she was familiar with. She didn't think that either of them would try anything untoward, but it was nice to know the location beforehand. She was already starting to look forward to wrapping herself up in one of Spock's sinfully fuzzy blankets. "It will be more comfortable and much warmer than any of our other options. And we do need to talk."

"So we may as well do so somewhere that we have free coffee and tea to sustain us," Jim added, waggling his eyebrows to try and lighten the mood. "And if we're going to move, we'd better move now," he continued a beat later in a conversational tone, glancing over Nyota's shoulder into the busy room behind her. "Ambassador Telen is making a beeline for us, and I'm rather sick of her undressing me with her eyes."

"So that's our cue, I suppose?" Nyota asked wryly.

"It's as good as any, and better than most." Jim shrugged.

Spock's silent agreement came when he led them through a private side door that Nyota hadn't even seen. When opened, the door revealed a set of side stairs probably installed by some politician or diplomat for this express purpose. They were silent as they made their way back to Spock's apartment, waiting for privacy before they ended up shouting their dirty laundry to the entire city of San Francisco. They had to avoid reporters looking for a last minute scoop and several men and women desperate to get autographs or make comments on the way, but they managed to get to the apartment in one piece nevertheless.

When they were finally settled on the couch with their coffee in the cases of Jim and Nyota, and tea in the case of Spock, no one knew what to say. They kept a careful distance between themselves, nursing their drinks and warming themselves back up, thawing themselves out. Nyota, as she's so dearly wished, had a blanket around her legs, which was doing wonders to help warm up the frozen skin of her legs which had been left exposed to the elements by her dress uniform's skirt.

"Should I start?" Nyota asked when she felt Human again. She paused for a second, and then said, "Actually, can I ask a few questions first?" before Jim or Spock could say a word.

Spock glanced at Jim, then made a 'go ahead' gesture, giving Nyota free reign to continue. "Where should I begin?" Nyota's voice was dry. "Perhaps on the most important part is since when are the two of you so united? You were arguing too, after all, and I'm supposed to be the reasonable one. What exactly happened after I left? Let's start there."

Jim and Spock looked at each other. "Before we do anything, lemme just make sure I haven't totally fucked up. You do like me, right? Like...like me like me? Cause if you don't, I may have made a boo-boo."

"A boo-boo? Really? Are we four years old?"

"I've been told that's my mental age, at least."

"Well now that we've got _that_ cleared up."

"But no, really. I'm serious, Nyota." It was clear that Jim was avoiding the word 'love'.

"Do you _really_ think that I would let you touch me in anything but a platonic fashion if I wasn't alright with it? If we both weren't okay-" she glanced over to double check, and Spock nodded, "with it?"

"Good point."

Slowly, aware of Nyota's eyes on him the entire time, Jim bent down and brushed his mouth over Spock's. Spock tilted his face up into it, hand coming up to cup his face. He spoke more to Spock than Nyota when he said, "Shall I begin?"

Nyota just grinned at him. "After you left, we just stood there like the idiots we are." His mouth twitched in a smile just for her. "And then, because we are, after all, idiots, we started arguing again, about whose fault it was. And I was so angry- at you, for leaving, at Spock for being a hard-headed moron who can't admit he's more than Vulcan, at myself...at myself for letting everything go to hell in a hand basket like that. I'm supposed to be the Captain, I'm supposed to be better than that. I thought I _was_ better than that." Jim fell silent, thinking hard.

"And I was no better," Spock agreed, and Jim and Nyota both turned to look at him. With hard-won control, Spock said, "And I to was...emotionally compromised by your departure. I did not want to cause you distress- it was not my intention, though I am..." For once, Spock looked to be at a loss for words. "I...you must understand, Nyota, Jim," he made sure that they both met his eyes, "We are not a people inclined to emotion. The destruction we caused when we expressed our feelings freely gave rise to a history fraught with pain and suffering and utter chaos. We almost destroyed our entire species more times than we can even remember. And when we wrenched control of our lives back from that darkness, we strove for peace and serenity. We are not a perfect people," Spock's eyes hardened, "but it is better than the wholesale destruction of everyone and everything in the universe."

Jim and Nyota considered that for a moment, considering the atrocities in Earth's history, considering the idea that every person on the planet might feel twice as strongly on every given matter. The possibility of both good and evil was staggering to think of.

"And that...angered me, so deeply, to hear you both make light of that struggle. I know that is not the spirit in which it was intended," Spock said quickly, holding up a hand to stall their protest, "but I could not strike the idea from my mind, that somehow my Vulcan side should be ignored, or was lesser than my Human side. I have the depth of emotion that comes from my Vulcan heritage, and I learned from an early age to control it. I cannot relinquish that control lightly."

"We didn't really phrase our concerns very well," Nyota admitted. "I can see where you felt like you were being attacked. It's just...just as you were raised to rely on logic, we were taught to rely on emotion. We don't listen to our feeling all the time, but we usually use it as our guiding force when it comes to speaking out thoughts. We try not to let ours guide us when it might cause us to hurt others, but in the matters of love, of happiness, of comfort, it's the norm for us to do it. And I'm sorry, genuinely sorry for making you feel as though you had to be a certain way to please me." She was rather proud of herself for sounding so eloquent, and Spock's kiss was a reward for managing to sound even partially coherent. She pulled back, smiling crookedly and asked, "Maybe we can have a redo?" It was a stupid and foolish thing to say, because there was no such thing as do-over.

This wasn't a video game.

This was real life.

Perhaps the sentiment would be enough, though, to make him understand.

Then, in a mastery of the art of understatement, Jim agreed, "Yeah. What she said." Nyota gripped his hand, marveling a little at the ability to touch as she wanted and be touched in return.

"So you were both pissed off and idiots," Nyota prompted. "Then what?" It seemed if she didn't move them along, they'd dwell on singular moments for the rest of their lives.

"I kissed him," Jim said immediately, as though the response should have been obvious. "I was shouting at him for driving you off, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss him until he finally shut his mouth and stopped arguing." He looked rueful. "And I've never been really good at impulse control. In my defense, it's a very nice mouth." He seemed vaguely discomfited, but he met her eyes squarely enough.

"And I...reciprocated," Spock said, and though neither of them went into detail, Nyota could picture it clearly, a kiss born of anger and frustration before settling into something softer, if no less passionate. As different as they were, no one could call either of them passive. It was alright that they didn't want to share; she had moments with Spock and Jim alike that she wouldn't reveal to anyone.

"And when we managed to stop making out," Jim said, smile inviting Nyota in on the joke, "We sat ourselves down, and figured out what the fuck was going on and attempting to figure out what we were supposed to do now, since obviously things couldn't continue as they were."

"While I knew that you had feelings for Jim, I had not known the depth of my own investment until I had kissed him. Knowing that you already loved him-"

"Wait, what?" Nyota interrupted, flushing a little. "How did you know?" Her voice got high and squeaky but that was the only sign that the was disturbed by the news. She may as well have shouted it, however, with how attuned Jim and Spock were to her. She tried to figure out if she'd been that obvious. She hadn't thought she was, not really.

"No, no," Spock said. "It was not your action, but rather your mind itself." Spock looked as close to adoring as he ever did when he spoke of Nyota's mind. It was strangely sweet, if not a little odd, to speak of mindscapes with such intimacy; when Humans spoke of the mind, it was abstract at best, but there was a surety and passion when Spock discussed their mind-melds. "When I touched your mind during mind-melds, I did not notice it at first. It seemed so natural a part of your mental landscape that I did not even detect it; you would not be Nyota without that intrinsic part to yourself and so I dismissed it as a critical part of your mind. It wasn't until I found that same feeling associated with your thoughts of me that I realized what was going on." Spock's expression was guarded as he finished, looking neither pleased nor displeased at the notion that Jim had earned a permanent place in Nyota's mind.

"Ah..." Nyota wasn't sure what to say, exactly. What _did_ one say when revealing that they were in love with another person in addition to the one you were with?

"I considered the matter carefully, of course. I was in no doubt from your mind that you had the same feelings for me, and I trusted that you hadn't done anything with Jim on the grounds that you have always had a decided opinion on fidelity in relationships unless both parties expressly state otherwise." Nyota smiled softly at that. She'd had the discussion about infidelity very early in their relationship, and when Spock hadn't refuted her strict laws, they'd left it at that.

"However, I had not...while Vulcans do not traditionally engage in partnerships that comprise of more than one other person, it's not entirely unheard of. It is not the norm, however, especially not since the time of warriors, when Vulcans fought for everything from water sources to land to the ability to take a mate. I did not know whether I was even interested in Jim in a romantic sense, or whether I would be content to simply allow you to be with him as you were with me. I had never before considered that I might encounter this sort of situation and thus had no idea what to think of the situation. Meditating, however, gave me none of the insight I had hoped it would, however. Love is not an easy thing to decipher, is not an easy thing to understand, and I could not pinpoint an instant where I knew that I loved Jim anymore than I could with you: I only knew that though I cared for you in different ways, love it was nevertheless."  
"There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness," Nyota quoted. Jim rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles.

"Indeed." Spock conceded. "And then, by the time that I knew I loved Jim in truth, though I was just beginning to understand the details- assuming I ever will understand it fully at all- it seemed too late." Spock's voice was hushed, and his listeners leaned in closer to hear him better. "I thought that I had estranged you permanently, and I could no longer be satisfied with just one of you. I need you both."

Nyota kissed him then, firmly, with reassurance and intent. When she pulled back, Jim did the same, and Jim and Spock's expression when he did so made her believe that they might have some hope of making this work in a way that ended in happiness for them all, however hard they might need to fight to make it happen.

Jim caught her by surprise when he pressed his lips to hers; she was so used to looking and not touching that it kept startling her to have him be with her the way she wanted. To break the tension, Jim interrupted the kiss to say, in a delighted voice, "So we did some quick thinking, and tried to get you alone. Actually, you ought to commend your entire department. They're all your private guards."

Nyota frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't notice?" Jim asked, genuinely surprised. "Surely you had too- they ran constant interference for almost the entire trip. Spock and I were on the verge of asking the Bridge and Science department to join our side and keep Communications busy enough until we could find a moment to speak to you privately."

"But I thought- Rekal and Eliza have been arguing for months, surely it was just coincidence..." She thought back over how they'd managed to keep her busy almost every moment she was supposed to have free, inviting her to movies, asking her for help with this or that, even going so far as to make a midnight call to help with some last minute oversights that had slipped through the cracks as they tried to make sure that the _Enterprise_ was ready to dock on Earth. It hadn't seemed like anything special, until she realized that the most important calls seemed to come when she was in the presence of Jim or Spock for more than a few minutes when business wasn't at hand.

She muffled her groan by covering her face with her hands. Jim laughed uproariously, and even Spock permitted himself a small, shy almost-there smile.

"I hope you know that I've never felt more foolish than I do now," Nyota said from behind her hands, feeling her cheeks heat. Sure, she'd known that the Communications department, amongst others, had been more than aware of the tension that had been between Nyota, Jim and Spock, and that they were silently- and in some occasions, not so silently- supporting her. What she _hadn't_ realized was that the passive encouragement had turned into actively _discouraging_ Jim and Spock from interacting with her.

"Aw, look at this way- be happy that apparently you're a child that needs minding." Jim elbowed at her, leering a little.

"Actually, the show of solidarity should be taken as an example of your ability to lead," Spock said seriously, earnestly, and Jim and Nyota dissolved into shameless giggles.

"I should probably more upset that they don't trust me to handle my own life," Nyota said when the laughter had died down, "and I really ought to tell them off for interfering so. I'll scare them into seeing some sense."

"Clever use of alliteration," Jim said, and Nyota elbowed him back fondly. They jostled for position on the couch before settling close to one another this time, Jim and Nyota snuggling under her blanket. They ended up sprawling across the couch, Nyota laying on top of Jim, their feet in Spock's lap. Spock rubbed at them, absentmindedly, long fingers tracing random patterns across warm skin.

Nyota was abruptly very, very sleepy and comfortable. Jim's breathing was deep and even in her ear, and though a part of her was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, all she wanted to do was drift off. Things couldn't be this easy. In all honesty, when they'd had time to sleep and rest and talk, things _wouldn't_ be that easy. She may as well enjoy the peace while she could.

"Don't you have more questions?" Jim asked finally, and his voice rumbled against Nyota pleasantly. Spock's thumb brushed against her instep, and it felt surprisingly good. "I feel like things really shouldn't be that simple."

"Things aren't that simple, you dunce," Nyota said, but it was far more indulgent than it would have been even two weeks ago. "They never are, you've got to know that. Relationships are pretty much by definition the most complicated things anyone can do. As for questions...well, I feel like I should probably have a thousand more questions for you, and you should have another thousand for me, and we'll probably end up arguing and fighting and haggling over what we're to do next."

"We'll eventually come to an agreement, a compromise that suits as all as best as possible," Spock added. "And we will be on the _Enterprise_."

"Which by definition means we kick some serious ass on our own. If we're together, I bet we can take down anyone who crosses our paths. I'm pretty excited, actually. I've always wanted to take on a Klingon Warbird."

Nyota smacked Jim on the arm. "No planning another war until we've got the issues we already have with the Romulans sorted out, thanks all the same."

"You spoil everything."

"And don't you forget it."

"Anyways," Spock stressed before they could devolve into an even more pointless argument, "Wouldn't we be more comfortable if we adjourned to the bed?"

"Perhaps in a minute," Nyota said lazily, but Spock was already shaking his head.

"If we wait another moment, you will both fall asleep on the couch."

"It's hardly the worst place I've slept," Jim commented, lifting a hand and pulling out the hair-tie from Nyota's hair and running his fingers through it. "And it's a sight better than most."

"But we can _all_ stretch out on a bed," Nyota pointed out.

Jim groaned. "You are a _shameless_ temptress, and you should be locked away lest you reveal to all the secret goodness that is a bed." With a second groan, Jim sat up, keeping Nyota cradled against his chest.

Spock herded them towards the bedroom, forgoing such basic things as clothing and brushing their teeth as they all crawled into bed, a tangled piled of limbs and shared breath that seemed perfectly comfortable, even with Jim's knee digging into her thigh and Spock's hand caught beneath her body.

Well, they'd manage things somehow.

~*~

_Fade to black._


	8. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

_The curtain rises._

_Only the spotlight comes up, illuminating a single figure. The surrounding stage remains dark._

_It's Nyota._

_She's sitting in a pair of casual jeans and a loose fitting shirt, and she perches on a stool, back straight. She balances easily, a fond smile on her face. “It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue,“ she begins slowly. “If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues.“ Her smile widens, and there is a glint of teeth. “Rosalind got that bit right, at least. An epilogue can sometimes be of use.“_

_She shifts on the stool, biting her lip and to all appearances deep in thought. “I'm not here to bring you tiding of a happy ending, if that's what you're looking for. I'd recommend_ As You Like It _.“ She spreads her arms, inviting the audience to laugh with her. When they settle, she continues,_ " _But then, I can see you all look like a clever audience, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Shall I tell you the truth? Well, the truth is brutal.“_

 _Her voice snaps like a whip. “Last night, Jim and I argued for an hour about his handling of one of my Communications officers. People like to say that there's a way to keep professional and private lives completely separate, and maybe they can manage it. But they probably don't work and live and_ die _together, that's for sure. You can't separate things that are that close.“_

_Silence._

_Nyota stills and gives a little self-depreciating smile. “Such is life, I suppose.“ She looks up for a moment, and only a few in the audience catch the tear that rolls into her hair as she closes her eyes, face still tilted up._

_“Not that I wanted to give you the wrong impression. It's good, it's better than good, it's_ great _most days.“ She shrugs. “I love them, and can't do without them. But that doesn't mean that sometimes dealing with them doesn't make me want to push them out an airlock. And some days are better than others, true.“_

_She gets off the stool then, pacing across stage and the spotlight follows her, throwing her face into stark and fervent relief. “They're frustrating and wild and uncontrollable, and yes, sometimes they make me want to burst into tears and ask for a transfer because I just can't deal with them and their baggage anymore. And every time, I have to find a way to live with what happened and move on. Not that I'm a martyr. Hardly. I've been responsible for my fair share of fights.“ She shakes her head. “And they get to live with that too, you know. They have to learn to live with that. And so it goes, with all of us muddling about as best we can. You know. Life._

_“And this life,_ our _lives have become this collection of passionate and eclectic and intense and dangerous and vibrant and terrifying and just...amazing moments. You would have to dedicate a lifetime and then some to just begin to describe them. But isn't that the summation of anyone's life, a collection of moments that can't even be described except in language that was never meant to be used that way? And even when you don't even know where to begin, isn't it the most exhilarating-“_

_“Nyota, are you waxing poetic again?“_

_Nyota pauses in her pacing, surprised by the interruption which had derailed her monologue. “No,“ she finally mumbles, looking grumpy._

_Jim and Spock both wander on from stage left, Jim draping himself all over Nyota and to all appearances going to sleep while Spock takes one of her hands in his own. Neither of the men appear to notice the audience- or if they do, they don't mention it. “Come back to bed,“ Spock says, turning the words into something enticing._

_Nyota wavers, glancing out into the audience._

_Jim wraps himself tighter around her, nibbling on her neck, hands making a decided directional shift towards her breasts while Spock presses closer to Nyota, his lips a hair's breadth from hers. His free hand lifts one of Jim's hands off of Nyota's chest and threads their fingers together._   
_Nyota half turns, darkly glorious in the stark light of the theatre. She is wound up in their arms as much as they are wound up in hers, and no one needs words to describe the meaning there. She gasps when Spock slips a hand into Nyota's back pocket and Jim pulls out her hair-tie, letting Nyota's long hair fall down her back, soft and sensual._

_Her eyes are half lidded as she looks out into the audience and grins, bright and brilliant and beautiful. “Like I said, some days are better than others.“_

_~*~_

_Fade to black._

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://shagungu.livejournal.com/profile)[shagungu](http://shagungu.livejournal.com/), who asked for the development of a polyamorous relationship from a previously established couple. She deserves another prize for being so patient. This [](http://help-pakistan.livejournal.com/profile)[help_pakistan](http://help-pakistan.livejournal.com/) fic was supposed to be due back in October, and it just...wasn't. Hope you enjoy it, and thanks _so much_ for donating!
> 
> Finally posting to AO3!


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